Changes (A Prequel to Through, Together)
by YourFriendlyNeighborhoodEm
Summary: The fallout of the Avengers led to a life on the run for Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers and has placed targets on their backs. They've had to lay low, but the fight isn't over. There's still much to be done for Captain America and the Black Widow. This new way of life will bring them closer than ever before and show that maybe change isn't so bad after all.
1. No Rest for the Wicked

_The lights on the Coney Island ferris wheel were red. All red. Steve guessed that it was some attempt at romantic ambiance, but to him it just looked like blood. It cast an eerie glow over everything, painting the world in a hue that belonged in Halloween shops. He stood on the ground, looking up at the ferris wheel with his hands in his pockets. It wasn't moving. Far up, at the very top swing, sat a woman. She had perfect brown curls, perfect red-painted lips; perfect brown eyes._

_Peggy..._

_Steve had told her to wait for him. He told her he'd meet her there, and they'd get back to that life they both knew they wanted. And there she was. Waiting. All Steve had to do was walk up to the ferris wheel, push that big red button, and bring her back down to him. It was simple, really, but he couldn't do it, because the rest of Coney Island was a mess. There was garbage all over the place and dumpster fires burning; adding an intense heat to the already red-soaked world. He wasn't even sure who had caused it all. He supposed it didn't really matter. Pointing fingers wasn't going to do any good. Facts were still facts. There was a mess, and it needed cleaned up._

_Peggy turned her head and looked down, all those dozens of feet, at Steve. Her red lips curled into a smile._

"_Steve!" She called out to him._

_He didn't answer._

"_Steve?" She looked confused. "Steve…"_

"Steve. Steve, wake up."

Something jostled his shoulder.

Steve's blue eyes opened wide, accompanied by a quiet gasp that brought him back to the land of the living. He focused in to see a familiar face hovering above him. He saw red hair where he once saw brown. Green eyes looked down at him with concern that reminded him of the eyes he'd seen in his dream. It was quickly fading, though. Chased away by the present.

"Nat…" he slowly sat up. "What is it?"

"We've gotta move," she said. She stepped away from the bed and tilted her head to the side, watching him curiously. "Were you dreaming?" She asked.

"Uh," he rubbed the back of his neck in a further attempt to chase the sleep away. "Yeah. Must've been."

"What about?"

"Don't remember." He said. _Peggy. _He thought dismally. _Always Peggy._

At least, it'd been that way since the fallout. Since Tony and Bucky and the Sokovia Accords and Sharon. God. _Sharon_. What a mess. Steve felt like he'd failed Peggy in some way. Even though she was gone, he felt he owed it to her memory to keep this… dream of hers alive. She'd put so much faith in S.H.I.E.L.D. In the greater good. Camaraderie and togetherness. Steve felt like he'd smashed it all to hell. There were pieces everywhere. The Avengers _were _those pieces, scattered across a chess board, and he had no idea how to pick them all up.

Natasha didn't seem to buy his lie, but she didn't say anything about it. After all, who was she to knock someone for keeping secrets? Her whole life had been built upon them. Only recently was she coming to terms with the whole "honesty" thing, and some days it was still a struggle. She couldn't fault Steve for wanting to keep something close to the chest. She knew him, and knew how to read people, well enough to know that he was full of shit, but that didn't matter right now. It wouldn't have been fair, anyway. She'd barged into his room without so much as a knock. Regardless, they had bigger fish to fry than dissecting his dreams. She got back to business.

"Ross has his headhunters looking for us," Natasha said. "We can't let them come sniffing around here."

"Right," Steve grumbled as he stood up. "We wouldn't be very good houseguests if we brought an army to our host's doorstep."

Natasha grinned. Their "host" of course, was T'Challa, the young king of Wakanda and wearer of the Black Panther mantle. He'd offered Steve and Bucky asylum here after they'd managed to narrowly escape Tony. Natasha had met up with them shortly after, if only to rest before they made their next move. She hadn't exactly done herself any favors by letting Steve and Bucky escape from Germany a few days ago. Now, she was on the run, too. Steve would've preferred a few more days before they made that move, but he knew that wasn't up to him. They couldn't bring a fight to Wakanda, for multiple reasons. One of those reasons, and perhaps the most important in Steve's eyes, was Bucky.

Bucky Barnes was currently in a stasis chamber in one of the medical labs. He had volunteered to go under while a team of Wakanda's brightest minds tried to figure out how to undo the mental damage that had been done when Hydra hijacked his brain and turned him into the Winter Soldier. Bucky had a lot of blood on his hands, and a lot of guilt on his shoulders. He didn't want to come out until he was sure nothing like that would ever happen again. Steve couldn't blame him for that. Neither could Natasha. She knew what it was like to have red in your ledger. Hers was practically drowning in it.

"Meet me on the bridge in five," Steve said.

Natasha nodded her understanding and headed for the door. "Don't dilly dally too long, Rogers. I know how sentimental you get with goodbyes." She cast a smirk at him from over her shoulder before heading out of the room.

The comment pulled a short huff of laughter from Steve as well as a shake of his head. He supposed, of all the people to be on the run with, Natasha wasn't so bad. She had proven that she had Steve's back by letting him and Bucky go in Germany. He knew he could trust her, and, at the very least, she kept things interesting. All he had to do was keep up with her frequent teasing.

When it came to preparations, Steve didn't have too many to make. His shield was gone, left with Tony after they both decided he didn't deserve it. He could not longer sport his brightly-colored, star-spangled outfit, either. It would cause him to stick out like a sore thumb to any of the countless people who were looking for him. That left him with regular clothes, and the few supplies he needed on a day-to-day basis. So, he threw everything in a single duffel bag, and then threw on a leather jacket over the white t-shirt he wore. He looked "painfully civilian", as Natasha had pointed out before, but it was better than being in cuffs. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Steve left the room.

Steve found T'Challa where he assumed T'Challa knew he would find Steve. The king of Wakanda was standing outside of the stasis lab with his younger sister, Shuri. Shuri was the mastermind behind the technology that would, hopefully, heal Bucky. She was also the source of all of the tech that provided their great armed forces, including the Black Panther suit.

"Your Highness." Steve held out a hand.

"Captain." T'Challa gripped his wrist and gave a single, firm shake. "You do not have to leave so quickly," he told him. "Wakanda's defenses are more than capable of keeping out the threat."

"We can swat them down like flies from a wildebeest's backside." Shuri added with enthusiasm.

"I appreciate the offer," Steve said with a grin, "but this is for the best. We don't want to risk exposing Wakanda. There are too many people out there who would want what's inside these walls."

T'Challa nodded, seemingly understanding.

Steve looked over T'Challa's shoulder and into the stasis room behind him. He saw Bucky, in a seemingly peaceful state of sleep in one of the stasis chambers. It pained Steve to have to leave him here, especially without saying goodbye, but he knew it was for the best. This was the safest place for Bucky to be for the time being.

"We will take good care of your friend, Captain." Shuri assured Steve with a smile.

He returned his gaze to the girl and gave her a smile of her own. "I know you will," he said.

"Here." T'Challa picked up a black bag that had been resting on the floor between Shuri and himself. He extended it to Steve. "A parting gift. I've left your other gift with Miss Romanoff."

Steve took the back and gave T'Challa a questioning look. He didn't know if he liked the sound of that or not. He was even more unsure of the small smiles that both siblings were wearing. He didn't have time to contemplate it, though. Steve knew that he'd taken long enough, already, and that his five minutes were up. He gave T'Challa and Shuri one last handshake before starting to back pedal away.

"Thank you," Steve said. "We'll be back."

"I am counting on it." T'Challa said with a smile.

Steve turned and jogged off. He knew he would catch hell from Romanoff if he made her wait. There wasn't much that she _didn't _like giving him a hard time about, but this would definitely top the charts. He found her standing on the skybridge on the north side of the building. She was looking out the west-facing window, staring into the night sky with an unreadable expression on her face. Wherever she was, it seemed like it was far away. The second she saw Steve out of the corner of her eye, though, she reeled herself back in. She turned her head to look at him, and almost immediately one of those cheeky grins started forming on her face. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Don't start, Romanoff." Steve warned.

Natasha chuckled but honored the request. She turned and started walking. Steve fell into step beside her. Her green eyes glanced down to the black bag that Steve had shown up with.

"Goody bag?" She asked, nodding down toward it.

"A gift from T'Challa," Steve said. "He said the other one was with you."

Natasha said nothing. She led Steve to the far end of the bridge, to an elevator that took them up to the top floor. The doors opened to an impossibly large aircraft hangar filled to the brim with Wakandan vessels. Steve's eyes scanned the room before falling on an aircraft at the far end.

"Is that the Quinjet?" He asked.

"Something like that," Natasha said, glancing over at him. "Outfitted with all the bells and whistles."

Shuri and a small team of engineers had given the Quinjet a much-needed makeover. They upgraded the thrusters for faster, quieter travel. They integrated their tech into the reflective technology that allowed the aircraft to become invisible not only to the naked eye, but to any sort of radars or frequencies that might have been scanning for it. They had also provided some upgrades to the weapons system. In addition to the wing turrets that were typical of the jet, there were small missile launchers situated by the thrusters, able to be fired either frontwards or backwards.

Natasha smiled at the thing as if she were looking at a highschool sweetheart. "Isn't she beautiful?" She remarked.

Steve found himself thinking the same thing about her smile. He didn't get to see it often. Not like this. Usually, Natasha wore some sort of close-lipped grin made for grating people's nerves, but this… this was genuine. Granted, the fact that it was over a piece of machinery was a little alarming, but everyone had their "thing". The fact that the Black Widow got all nerdy over tech was actually pretty endearing. Of course, Steve wouldn't be caught dead telling her any of that, because if he told her he probably _would _be caught dead. By her hand. So, he kept those thoughts to himself.

"You'll have plenty of time to get to know each other in the air," Steve said instead. "Let's get out of here."

They walked up the loading ramp of the Quinjet. Natasha headed for the pilot's seat while Steve pressed a button to pull the ramp up into a locked and secured position. He set the bags down and took a seat in the co-pilot's chair beside Natasha. He didn't know how much help he'd be, but it was better than sitting in the back by himself. He watched as Natasha pressed buttons and pulled levers, seemingly without thinking. She'd done this so many times it was probably like breathing to her at this point. As expected, the Quinjet started right up. It purred to life like a sports car, rather than the noisy show of firing engines that it used to have. The hangar doors in front of them slowly slid open as the thrusters gained strength.

"Alright…" Natasha breathed. "Beam me up, Scotty."

The Quinjet took off. It zoomed in a perfect line out of the hangar and into the air, reaching incredible speeds in even more incredible time. Steve and Natasha watched as a quadrant of the protective barrier around Wakanda opened up and allowed the Quinjet passage out of the territory and into the night sky. It wasn't until after they'd cleared the wall that Steve realized he'd been holding his breath. He released it in a heavy sigh, his shoulders sinking a bit.

The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Natasha's keen eye. She looked over at him and smirked. "Oh, come on." She said. "Do you really have _that _little faith in my flying abilities?"

Steve chuckled. "Everytime I'm in this thing it's either to run away from something or jump out of it directly _into _something. You'll have to excuse me if I get a little jittery."

"Just keep your Life Alert handy," she told him. "And try not to keel over."

"Hilarious." Steve said dryly. They'd reached altitude already, so he was unfastening his safety belt and moving to stand up. "You know, if the whole super spy thing doesn't pan out, you should turn to comedy."

"Who says I can't do both?"

Steve shook his head and walked over to the bags he'd set down earlier. There was his and the one that T'Challa had given him. He noticed that Natasha hadn't carried one on with her.

"You don't have a bag?" He asked.

"Nope." She replied from the pilot's seat.

"What do you do about, well… everything?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him, shrugging. "I pick it up as I go along. Possessions slow you down, Rogers."

Steve wasn't sure if she was being serious or not. If it were anyone else, he would've assumed not, but Natasha had a certain code that she operated by that no one else did. It was very likely that she was telling the truth. Steve thought that was a bit sad. He didn't have much, himself, but there were a few items he did had that held great personal worth. Things that meant something to him. He wondered what it was Natasha cared about. Then, another thought struck him.

"Not even a toothbrush?" He asked.

"I use yours."

Steve's jaw dropped a bit. "You're not serious…"

Natasha chuckled. She set the Quinjet to autopilot, unfastened her safety belt, and stood up. "I'm kidding, Steve." She said as she stepped away from her seat. "I have some stuff up there."

She pointed to a row of overhead compartments above the seats Steve's bags were sitting on. She walked over to him and came to stand beside him, her arms folded across her chest. Her green eyes fell to the black bag that T'Challa had given Steve.

"Well?" She asked. "Are you gonna open it?"

That reminded Steve that he _had _been about to open it before he got distracted by his thoughts. He unzipped the bag and peered inside. A black star stared back at him. Steve tentatively reached inside and pulled out the heavy tactical gear. It was dark blue with thick but flexible plating on the chest, abdomen and shoulders. There were pants inside to match, along with a heavy utility belt and some fingerless gloves.

"Looks like someone thought you needed a change of pace," Nat said.

"I'm not the only one," Steve replied. "Look."

Similar gear was folded neatly and resting beside Steve's. It was black, with armor-like plating at the joints and a dark green tactical vest. It was thicker; bulkier than the smooth, sleek designs that were typical of the Black Widow's ensemble. Things made for blending in when you could and fighting when you had to. Along with the clothing were a pair of gloves outfitted with the electrically charged "Widow's Bite" darts that Natasha knew and loved, but that wasn't all. There were a pair of baton-like devices that looked, for all intents and purposes, like bully clubs used by police officers. Furrowing her brow in confusion, Natasha pulled one out of the bag.

She turned the baton over in her hands a few times, testing the weight and durability of it. She knew better than to think they were as old-fashioned as they looked. There had to be more to them than that. Natasha ran her fingers along the bottom part of the club and found a small, almost indiscernible button at the base. After thinking it over for a moment, Nat decided to press the button. There was a sound like a high-pitched charge, and then a buzz as the baton came to life with an electric charge. The blue-white light crackled fiercely, forcing Natasha to hold the weapon away from herself for risk of shock.

"Wow," Steve remarked. "I'm almost jealous. All I got was some new duds."

Natasha gave him a look. "You have fists that can smash through steel," she told him. "I don't think you _need _anything other than that."

Steve chuckled. "You have a point."

Natasha pressed the button again and turned the charge off. "It's pretty impressive," she said as she placed the device back into the bag. Then, she said something that surprised Steve.

"I just hope I don't have to use it any time soon."

The Black Widow wasn't a pacifist. She knew how to fight, and she wasn't the type to run away from one. In fact, the fighting wasn't the problem. It was the potential of _who _they would be fighting. She'd gotten more than her fair share of standing on the opposite side of the battle field as her friends in Germany. No, not just her friends. Some of those people were like family to her. She'd never wanted to stand against them in anything. She'd fought Clint, she'd even fought Steve, before ultimately deciding it was wrong and letting him go with Bucky. It didn't seem fair that Clint was the one behind bars, now, and she was walking free when _she _was the one who had jumped ship and switched sides. After seeing what it had done to the team, though, Natasha just couldn't move forward on the side of the Sokovia Accords.

"Hey…" Steve placed a hand on Nat's shoulder. He could sense where she was going, in her mind and her heart. "It'll be alright. We're going to make it right."

She looked up at him and gave him a close-lipped smile that didn't reach her eyes. Even her expert skills in deception couldn't mask the hint of sadness in those forest green hues. Steve had known her long enough and had worked with her long enough to know Natasha better than most. She had become a better friend to him than he could've ever imagined. He considered himself one of the lucky ones for that, to be trusted enough to be let in, even if just a little. Sometimes, though, it meant seeing the pain that she didn't let anyone else see. Even if it was just a glimpse; even if she quickly buried it as far away from the light as she possibly could, he still saw it. There was only so much you could hide when you had been hurt so many times in your life. Steve knew a little something about that. This line of work wasn't exactly conducive to a pain-free existence.

Natasha patted Steve's hand and walked back to the pilot's chair. She appreciated the gesture, but she knew that lamenting over things past and worrying about things to come wasn't going to accomplish anything. She had her moment, and now it was over. Now it was time to focus. She took her seat and pulled up some coordinates on the Quinjet's navigation screen.

"We should reach the Raft in a little over an hour." Natasha informed Steve. "You may want to try that gear on for size."

The Raft was a highly-advanced prison facility in the middle of the Atlantic, made for housing people with abilities. Of course, it housed the people without powers just as easily. It was currently holding those who had helped Steve back in Germany. Wanda Maximoff, Scott Lang, Sam Wilson and Clint Barton were all prisoners in that floating hell hole. That was something that neither Natasha nor Steve could stand for. They didn't deserve to be there. Natasha felt a particularly strong pang of guilt over the fact that Clint was there. Clint, who had been laying low and enjoying his self-proclaimed retirement with his family, had been locked away like a criminal for trying to do what he thought was the right thing. Clint was Natasha's best friend, and every second he was locked up was like a hammer blow to the chest.

He wasn't the only one, though. Sam and Wanda had been working with Steve and Nat before everyone's worlds were turned upside down by the Sokovia Accords. The four of them had been fighting the good fight and working to bring down Hydra installments all over the globe. They were good people, loyal people, who deserved better than the hands they'd been dealt. Natasha knew that Steve felt just as responsible for that. They were in there, after all, because they'd helped him.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Steve taking his things out of the bag. Ever the dutiful soldier, Captain America didn't need to be told twice to suit up. He slid out of his jacket and began the work of pulling his body armor on over the white t-shirt he wore. Natasha turned her head forward again before he could start disrobing out of anything else. The least she could do was give the Boy Scout a little privacy.

It took several minutes for Steve to get assembled. There were plenty of loops and buckles to secure into place, and seeing as it was his first time wearing all of this, it was definitely a learning experience. The last things to put on were the gloves. He slid them on, one by one, and flexed his fingers, testing the durability and resistance of the brown leather. It all felt good. Strong, sturdy, and reliable. Still, he couldn't help but to keep looking down at the dark star across his chest. It represented more than it was supposed to. Sighing, he looked back up and over to Natasha.

"Well," he said, "what do you think?"

Nat turned around and glanced over at Steve for a second before standing up once more. She took a few steps towards him, hands on her hips and a contemplative look on her face. She narrowed her gaze, pursed her lips together, and eyed him up and down. He looked good, she thought. He looked _really _good. As different as the new outfit was, it somehow seemed to fit him in all the right ways. Natasha might have been a little biased, though. She was partial to dark colors.

"I think the design team at Wakanda might be onto something." She remarked with a grin.

Steve chuckled and looked down at himself once more. "Feels like I'm missing something…"

Natasha swiveled her lips to one side in thought. She glanced down at the clothes he had left sitting on one of the seats and saw something poking out from his pants pocket. "That's because you are," she told him.

She reached down and gently plucked the compass out of the pocket of Steve's discarded pants. She held it flat in her palm and extended it to Steve, her eyes never leaving his face. She watched him look down at it and saw some strange expression pass before his eyes. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, as if he were contemplating something or warring with some thoughts in his mind. It didn't make sense to Natasha. She knew how much the compass meant to him, mainly because she knew how much the person whose photo was inside meant to him.

"Steve?"

Blue eyes lifted up to meet Natasha's. Steve's brows took on a downward slant, and a sort of sad smile formed on his face. "Don't know what I'd do without you, Romanoff." He said as he took the compass.

Natasha did her best to ignore the strange little flutter that caused to form in her chest. She pushed it down, as far down as it would go, and denied her cheeks the heat that threatened to rise into them. She perked a brow, instead, and gave Steve one of her famous half-smirks.

"Don't go getting all sentimental on me, Rogers." She smiled, patted him on the black star on his chest, and turned back towards her seat.

"You're not suiting up?" Steve asked.

Natasha paused and looked over at him once more. "I think you can handle this one solo," she said. "It's just a bunch of U.S. Marshalls. Besides," she grinned, "someone's gotta keep the getaway car running."


	2. Jailbreak

The reflective panels of the Quinjet were turned on, cloaking the aircraft completely from view. It hovered in near silence over the rough waters of the Atlantic that beat mercilessly against the prison that was known as the Raft. It was a huge, cylinder-shaped structure that was partially submerged below water. There were no windows in the dark gray steel, only drain ports that allowed water to pour out the sides and back into the ocean. The flat topside of the Raft was big enough to comfortably house two dozen, if not more aircrafts, but Natasha knew better than to land the Quinjet there. Instead, she kept the jet hovered over the dead center of the Raft, where a pair of thick metal panels served as the only door in and out of the place.

"Thermal readings show most of the guards in the command center," Natasha said from her seat. Steve stood behind her, looking over her shoulder at the display screen in front of her. "You'll have to pass through there to get to the cell block where they have everyone."

"And what about their gear?" Steve asked.

"It's in a containment unit one floor down," Natasha replied. She glanced up at him. "The second those cell doors open, the alarms are going to sound. You'll barely have time to get everyone topside, let alone go rummaging through lost and found. We can _replace _their stuff, Steve."

But she knew it was useless. She could see it in his eyes that he'd already made his mind up, and if Steve Rogers was anything, it was determined. She sighed and shook her head. "Fine," she said, "but if you're late, I'm _leaving _you here."

Steve smiled down at Natasha and patted her shoulder. "I won't be late," he said. Then, he turned and headed for the loading ramp. He pressed the side of his fist into a red button on a wall panel that dropped the ramp. Immediately, the sound of roaring winds and crashing waves filled the Quinjet.

"You and I both know you aren't exactly great with punctuality!" Natasha shouted over her shoulder to Steve.

He just smiled at her as he backpedaled down the ramp. He even threw in a little salute before he allowed gravity to take him. Natasha didn't think she'd ever get used to seeing him jumping out of planes with no parachute. Despite all his stars and stripes and moral codes, Steve could be incredibly reckless… and Natasha liked that. She had a history of being a little reckless, herself, from time to time.

Steve plummeted quickly, the air around him forming a sort of wind tunnel. He kept his legs straight and pressed together, arms pressed firmly down against his sides, pencil diving down toward the Raft. In the few seconds it took him to fall, Steve thought about what Natasha said. He knew he had a history of falling short on his promises to not be late. He was confident, though. Steve had no intention of finding himself trapped at sea. He'd done that once already and wasn't exactly looking for a repeat. Besides, he knew Natasha would wait for him. As much as she may have teased and threatened, Steve knew she wouldn't leave a man behind. Maybe, once upon a time, she might have left without a second thought, but that wasn't the Natasha he knew now. She was loyal and dependable. She would wait. He found himself wondering if Peggy had waited. For how long?

The ground came up to meet him a little quicker than expected. Steve hit the metallic surface of the Raft, knees bent to absorb the impact, and rolled several times to diffuse his momentum. After a few seconds of gathering his bearings, he righted himself, standing up and brushing some sea water spray from his suit.

"Not the best landing I've seen," he heard Nat say through his earpiece. "I give it a six."

"Yeah, I'd like to see _you _try." He replied.

He heard a small bubble of laughter. Then, "Tick tock, Rogers. Clock's ticking."

Steve jogged across the Raft's surface to the pair of huge floor panels that allowed access inside. He knew that the metal doors were too thick and heavy for even him to pry apart. Thankfully, there was a small service hatch situated in the right door. That was much easier for Steve to pull off. The hinges bent and broke easily beneath his strength, and he tossed the door aside to reveal a ladder that headed down into the structure. He wasted no time, opting to jump down the chute rather than take the ladder down. His boots hit the floor below with a heavy thud when he landed. He'd made it inside the prison. Unfortunately, there was no warm welcome waiting for him.

There were three guards caught completely unaware by Steve's arrival. They made shouts of surprise and tried to rebound from the shock by reaching for their weapons. All three of them had guns, because apparently everyone but Steve had guns nowadays. Steve was quicker than they were, though. He grabbed the hand of the first guard before he could completely free his gun from his holster. Holding the firearm in place, Steve leaned forward and delivered a quick, hard headbutt that knocked the guy out cold. He released him and spun to swat at the barrel of the second guard's gun that was already training on him. He pushed the weapon away from himself and used his free hand to punch the guard in the face. Another knockout. Steve grabbed the gun from the guard's grasp as he was falling and then threw the weapon at the third man. It hit him in the shoulder and sent him staggering back a few steps, knocking him off his center of gravity. Steve rushed him as he stumbled, grabbing his gun hand and lifting it up toward the ceiling. He kneed the guard in the stomach, wrenched his weapon free from his grasp, and pistol-whipped him with the butt of the gun.

Steve looked around to see if the commotion had drawn any unwanted attention, but all he saw were the three unconscious guards at his feet. He huffed out a little sigh and made quick work of disassembling the guns. He left the parts and ammo scattered around, so if the guards woke up anytime soon- which Steve wasn't anticipating- they wouldn't be getting armed too quickly. With that taken care of, he started off.

He remembered the details that Natasha had given him before their arrival. She'd pulled up a blueprint schematic of the facility, showing him the exact route Steve would need to take to get to their friends. He remembered it all perfectly. Steve had something of a photographic memory when it came to things like this. As a result, he was able to navigate halls and corridors with ease and avoid detection. That was, of course, until he came to the control room. There, five armed men sat at various stations in front of various screens and control panels. They were the only thing standing in the way of Steve and the cell block that contained Sam, Clint and the others. They were an obstacle, but Steve cleared them quickly.

Three minutes later, he was stepping over unconscious bodies and broken monitors to get to the door to the cell block. It opened when he got close, allowing Steve entry into the circular room that contained individual cells along the perimeter. He looked around, almost frantically, counting bodies and making sure everyone was there. Scott sat staring at a wall. Clint laid staring at the ceiling. Wanda was pulling at the power dampener around her neck, and Sam…

"Cap!" Sam exclaimed. "Is that you?"

Steve turned to see Sam standing near the barred and plexiglass-enforced edge of the cell, one hand held up to shield his eyes from the bright lights blaring in from the main room. Steve grinned and strode up to the cell. He ducked his head a bit to look beneath one of the bars and saw Sam standing on the other side. His friend was wearing one hell of a shiner under his eye, but he was also wearing a smile.

"Hey, buddy." Steve said. "Feel like getting out of here?"

Sam gawked. "Do I feel like-" He laughed and shook his head. "Man, open this damn door!"

By then, everyone else was standing up and peering out of their cells as well. Steve could hear Scott's triumphant laugh and could see Clint thumping his fist against the plexiglass. Wanda appeared… a bit more somber. There was a strange mixture of relief and fear on her face. Steve could understand why, what with that hunk of metal around her neck. He released Sam from his cell and then went to Wanda's while Sam moved to free Clint and Scott. The second her door was open, Wanda stepped out of the cell. She turned around and spit over her shoulder into the cell behind her, muttering something in Sokovian that Steve could only assume was colorful at best.

"Here," he said, gesturing her to step closer. "Let me take care of that for you."

Wanda moved closer and lifted her chin, exposing more of her neck. Steve grabbed the metal collar with both hands and pulled. It snapped like tree bark in his grasp, fizzling with dying electrical circuits as he threw it to the ground. No sooner was she free of the device did Wanda wrap her arms around Steve and hug him tightly.

"Thank you," she breathed quietly. "I didn't think I would survive in another _cage._"

Steve patted her back a few times and then stepped away to see the others approaching. He greeted them with handshakes and claps on the shoulders.

"New duds?" Sam asked. "I like 'em."

He was overjoyed to see his friends, but Steve knew they didn't have time for reunions. Already, alarms were blaring throughout the whole place. "Come on," he said. "We've gotta get topside. Our ride's waiting for us."

"Nat?" Clint asked.

Steve nodded. Barton smirked and, with a renewed sense of energy, fell into step with the others. Steve led the way, jogging back through the control room and through hallways. There was shouting in the distance that signaled the approach of more guards, but Wanda made quick work of that. With the twisting of her fingers, she bent metal and concrete alike, barring the way of anyone that might come to stop them. Steve was able to lead everyone back out to the main area he'd entered from, where the three guards were still passed out on the ground. He turned to Clint, Wanda and Scott.

"You three get up top. Nat will scoop you up from the roof. You," Steve said, looking at Sam, "are with me."

"What the hell for?" Sam asked. "The exit's that way." He pointed up the ladder.

"I heard someone took something from you. Don't you want to get it back?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I do." Scott said, raising his hand. "I _very _much do."

Sam understood and nodded a few times. "We got this," he told Scott. "You guys just get up top. We won't be far behind you."

The trio obliged and headed up the ladder. Up top, among the whipping winds and spraying sea, the Quinjet was waiting. Natasha had lowered the aircraft to hover above the landing pad, and a ladder had been tossed over to allow the others a way up. The Quinjet held steady in autopilot mode as Nat stood at the top of the ladder, watching and waiting for her friends to start the climb. She saw Clint, Scott and Wanda. No Sam or Steve, which meant Steve had taken help to go get the gear. Nat supposed that was a good thing. It meant he was being slightly more smart and less reckless about the retrieval. Still, Sam could be just as explosive as Rogers. She couldn't worry about that right now, though. The others were finishing the climb, and Natasha held out a hand to help pull them each up in turn. She hugged Wanda and Clint and was hugged _by _Scott, who was so happy to be off that damn Raft that he could hardly contain himself.

"_This_," Clint said, standing beside Natasha and looking down below, "is why I retired."

Inside the Raft, Sam and Steve made it to the elevator that took them to the containment unit one floor down. The doors opened, and four guards were waiting on the other side. Steve took the two on the left, while Sam made quick work of the ones on the right. Even without his Falcon gear and all of its gadgets, Sam was a soldier, a warrior, and a force to be reckoned with. Steve had chosen him to come along for a reason.

"So," Sam said as he lowered an unconscious guard to the ground, "Cap and the Black Widow to the rescue, huh? Not the likeliest of saviors, but I'll take what I can get."

"Yeah, well, we're a little short-staffed at the moment." Steve said with a grin.

The two men jogged down the hall until they came to a door marked 105D. Steve booted it in with one, hard kick that sent the thick, metal door flying off its hinges.

"Show off," Sam said as he marched inside.

As they were looking for everyone's things, Steve heard more movement from outside. "Looks like we've got guests incoming." He told Sam. "I'll keep 'em busy. You find the gear."

"Copy that, Cap."

Steve ran back out into the hall, grabbing the door he'd booted in and carrying it with him. As expected, the approaching guards had guns. Steve held the door in front of him, using it as a shield that deflected the bullets as he made a slow advance toward the shooters. The hallway was narrow, which meant they couldn't get around him to go past him. All they could do was go backwards, but Steve had to give the guys credit, they weren't budging. They held their ground and kept shooting. Then, when their clips were emptied and their guns were clicking uselessly, Steve tossed the door at them. The heavy metal structure took three of them out at once. A fourth had managed to dodge it by pressing himself up against the wall, but Steve was right there to make sure the guy didn't get far.

"Sorry about this," he said as he grabbed the guy by the back of the coat and slammed his face against the wall. He was knocked out cold.

"Don't move!" A voice shouted from behind.

Steve didn't listen and spun around to see another guard at the other end of the hall, holding an assault rifle. With nowhere to go, and no door to serve as a shield, Steve was thinking that maybe Natasha was right after all. Maybe he _would _be a little late.

The man opened fire.

But before his bullets could reach Steve, they met steel inside. Sam launched himself out of the containment room, his Falcon gear strapped to his back. He extended his metal wings and then wrapped them in front of himself, creating a shield that sent the bullets ricocheting back toward their shooter. A stray bullet caught the guy in the leg and brought him down, yelling and grabbing at his wound. Sam pushed forward and kicked the gun out of the hand of the fallen guard. Then, he turned around and jogged back toward Steve. He was carrying two bundles that, presumably, carried Scott's Ant-Man suit along with Clint's myriad of gear, bow and arrows. He tossed one bundle to Steve and tucked the other beneath his arm as they took off running again.

"He okay?" Steve asked about the guard.

"Yeah," Sam said. "Bullet hit his shin. He'll be fine, but he's not going anywhere, any time soon."

"Damnit," Steve said as he skidded to a halt. "Guess that makes two of us."

At the end of the hall, the elevator doors were opening, and a half dozen men, at least, were pouring out of it. Behind them, more heavy footsteps could be heard advancing their way.

"Shit," Sam cursed. "How are we supposed to get out of this one?"

Steve was already looking around for another option. He was envisioning those schematics in his head, and after a few seconds of panicked thinking, an idea came to him. He looked at Sam. "Those guns of yours have any explosive rounds in them?"

Sam nodded.

"Follow me."

Steve headed right, down another corridor that ran along the outer perimeter of the Raft. Reinforced steel walls separated the rooms that contained the drain windows from the rest of the structure. If they could blow a hole in one of them, it would give them access to one of those rooms. It would be a wet ride, but it would get them out. Steve just hoped the water that they would be allowing into the main concourse wouldn't be enough to bring the whole thing down. There were plenty of people on here, and he didn't particularly feel like drowning any of them. He trusted that they had some sort of failsafes in place for situations like these… or at least situations close to these.

They ran until they had put an ample distance between themselves and their pursuers. When Steve felt they were safe, he pointed to a wall. "There," he said.

"Alright," Sam raised one of his guns. "Might wanna step back, Cap. This is about to get loud."

Steve stood behind Sam, whose metallic wings were spread out to act as a shield for any shrapnel that came their way. He released a single, explosive round into the wall and blew it to hell. The heat and the concussive blast forced Steve back a couple of feet, but he remained standing and unharmed. Immediately, water began rushing in. The current was impossibly strong, and each step Steve took against it made him feel like it would sweep him away at any second. The two of them fought the current and made it to the outer wall. They stood below the window, looking up at it as water pelted down on them.

"Hope you can make yourself small!" Sam shouted over the sound of rushing water. "That's gonna be a tight squeeze!"

The water was cold and crippling as it pounded down against Steve in a relentless assault. He felt fear creeping up his spine and wrapping itself around his shoulders. Somehow, decades later, this was still all-too-familiar territory for him. He'd had more than his fair share of watery graves. The thrusters on Sam's Falcon pack roared to life and lifted him up into the air above Steve. He reached down with both hands, and Steve reached up to grip his wrists. Sam lifted them both up into the air and zoomed them toward the window. Steve closed his eyes, held his breath, and prayed for the best.

Seconds later, they were emerging out of the other side of the waterfall and zooming up into the air, away from the ocean and the Raft. Sam looped them around and brought them to the backside of the Quinjet. He released Steve just as they cleared the loading ramp, sending Steve rolling on the unforgiving steel floor until he smacked into the bottom of a seat. Sam followed with slightly more grace, though not much.

"That's one way to make an entrance." A smooth voice said from above him.

Steve looked up to see Natasha, sitting in the pilot's chair that he had, apparently, smacked into. She'd been watching the whole thing with nervousness, trying to keep the Quinjet in position for Sam and Steve to get inside. Once they were in, she hit the control for the loading ramp to close, and kicked the aircraft's thrusters into full gear. They sped away from the scene, going into ghost mode as they did so. She didn't think they would have to deal with a chase- the people aboard the Raft would be too busy trying to keep it afloat to pursue them- but she didn't feel like sticking around to find out.

Looking up at her, Steve swore he saw worry in those green eyes. The sarcastic comment, the half-smile, they fell flat in the face of that little bit of fear that darted across her gaze, quick as a shooting star. He thought he should apologize, or maybe tell her he was okay, but before he could say anything, she was looking away again, and Scott and Clint were hauling him to his feet.

"You alright, Cap?" Scott asked as he looked Steve over.

Steve did the same. He was soaked to the bone and just as cold, but it seemed he'd made it out without a scratch. Thanks to Sam. His blue eyes cut over to Sam, now, to make sure that he was alright, too. The former Air Force pilot was shaking out his wings and complaining about the water frying his thrusters, but other than that, he seemed okay. Steve released a heavy breath and looked back to Scott, nodding as he did so.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm alright." He handed the black parcel that he was still clutching over to Scott. "Sorry. It… got a little damp."

"So, now what?" Sam asked as he tossed the other bag to Clint.

"Personally, _I _would like to sink that god forsaken thing to the bottom of the ocean." Wanda said. She was staring out a window, down at the Raft as they continued to speed away from it.

"I think we've made enough noise for one day." Steve replied. He pushed his fingers through his wet blonde locks, slicking it back and away from his face. When he was finished, he shook his hand off to his side, sending droplets of water flying.

"We'll need to lay low for awhile." Natasha said from the pilot's chair. "I know a few safehouses that are off the books. We should be able to stay there for a bit."

"No," Clint said. "That's not gonna work for me, Nat."

Natasha perked a brow and looked over at her friend.

"I've got a wife and kids I've gotta get home to," Clint said. "I'm out. For real this time."

"Yeah," Scott chimed in. "I'm with Hawk Guy."

"Hawkeye…" Clint muttered.

Scott didn't seem to hear him. "I've got a daughter. Cassie. I've spent too much time away from her already because I've been locked in one cell or another. I don't want to waste another moment away from my little girl."

Natasha didn't know what that was like, having kids, a home, a life to go back to. She didn't know that kind of desperation, but that didn't mean she didn't understand. She knew that Clint and Scott were right. They needed to be home with their families; not jetting all over the world on every Most Wanted List there was. Still, it wasn't like they were just going to skate off without incident.

"You're fugitives," she reminded them. "We all are. The second they find you, they're going to lock you up again."

"I'll take my chances." Clint said.

Natasha could tell by the look in his eye that he'd made his mind up and had zero doubts about his decision. Scott was the same. He nodded eagerly along to Clint's statement. Natasha sighed quietly. If only she'd had a father as hell-bent on being with her. How different things might have been.

"Alright," she finally said. "I can get you back into the states. I've got someone at Border Patrol who owes me a favor. After that, you're on your own."

"Should I ask…?" Sam said.

"Probably best if you don't." Clint replied.

With the decisions made, everyone settled in for the rest of the ride. Clint took the co-pilot chair beside Natasha. Scott and Wanda sat along the wall seats behind them while Sam and Steve worked on drying out at the back of the Quinjet. Steve felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, now that the others were out of the Raft. He knew that they weren't out of the woods yet, and they might not ever be, but this was a good first step. Being together, even if only for a little while, was good. It made Steve feel like he'd done the right thing. He believed in these people, and they'd believed in him enough to help support his cause when he needed them. Now, it was his turn. He wasn't going to let them down.


	3. A Friend in Need

Goodbyes were had somewhere outside of Ensenada, Mexico. The plan was that Scott and Clint would be able to cross the border up near Mexicali and make their way up into San Diego before going their separate ways. Scott lived in California and hopefully wouldn't have far to go before reuniting with his family. Clint's situation would be up in the air, Natasha knew, but she hoped that he would at least be able to find some time with Laura and the kids before he was inevitably tracked down by the feds. She knew that this was for the best, but it was always difficult saying goodbye to her old friend.

"Take care of each other," Clint reminded her, as if she needed it.

"Give the kids a kiss for me," Nat said with a small smile. "And tell Nathaniel he's still a traitor."

They were parked at an overlook along the coastal highway. Scott and Clint drove off in a clunker they'd acquired a few miles back, leaving Nat, Steve, Sam and Wanda with the minivan they'd "borrowed" a few miles outside of where they'd landed the jet. Natasha leaned against its rust-spotted bumper, arms folded across her chest, and watched the waves lapping calmly in the ocean. Her red curls were tossed carelessly in the warm breeze as she took a moment to breathe in the salty ocean air. Wanda sat on the guardrail, legs swaying slowly as she looked out at the horizon. Sam and Steve stood somewhere in between.

"You should've gone with them, Sam." Steve was saying. His brow was furrowed; his cheeks slightly flushed from the sun. He'd removed his jacket and stood in just a t-shirt and jeans. As much as he said he hated the cold, Natasha thought Steve handled it much better than the heat.

"With your record of service, they might have struck you some kind of deal."

Sam's eyes were unreadable behind the dark sunglasses he wore, but Natasha could see a smirk bubbling to the surface, pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, shoulders shaking with a chuckle, "pretty sure you've got the best record of service out of anyone I've ever met. Look how much good that did you."

Wilson tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and turned his face toward the ocean. "Nah, I think I'll stick around. There's plenty of work to do, and besides…" he turned his head and looked over his shoulder toward Natasha. "What kind of friend would I be if I forced Romanoff to put up with you on her own?"

Natasha wore a half smirk, perked a brow and shrugged one shoulder as if to say "he's right". Wanda moved, then. She swung her legs back around the edge of the guardrail and stepped onto solid ground once more. The tail of her red leather jacket flapped in the breeze behind her.

"I'll stay as well," she told them again. "This world has shown that there is no place in it for someone like me. Except for right here."

She nodded and gave them all a small smile that Natasha could feel the sadness in. She couldn't possibly fathom what it was like to be experimented on the way Wanda had been, but she knew a thing or two about what it was like to be treated like a weapon instead of a person. To be locked up and beaten down day in and day out, all for a result. All for a stat or a number or some piece of empirical data that would satisfy someone who didn't _deserve _satisfaction. The world had taken Wanda's home from her. It'd taken her brother from her, as well. If she felt some sort of kinship here with the three of them, well… that was a feeling Natasha could understand. She stepped away from the van and unfolded her arms from across her chest. Standing in front of Wanda, she placed a hand on the woman's shoulder and offered a smile.

"You _do _belong here," Natasha told her. "I may not have much to compare it to, but when it comes to family," she looked over at Sam and Steve. "I'd say this is a pretty good one."

That statement held a surprising amount of weight to it. Steve realized it was because Natasha was the one speaking it. The Black Widow, the wearer of many masks and impenetrable armor, was saying they were family. And she _meant _it, too. Steve could see it. He'd been close enough to those deep green eyes to see the way uncertainty would flicker there from time to time, even when she thought her act was bulletproof. He'd been close enough to see the way her gaze held firm in absolute confidence, too. This was one of those times. He found himself oddly honored to have gotten through those walls, barbed-wire fences and mine fields the Red Room had forced her to build around herself. To be considered trustworthy enough to make it past the barrier. Things may have looked pretty rough around the exterior, but once you got past all that, there was actually something quite strong; quite beautiful, housed inside. He gave a small smile and a nod.

"Nat's right," he said. "Wherever we are, you're welcome with us."

"Yeah," Sam said, "just as long as that 'wherever' is somewhere by the water with a drink in my hand."

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "We aren't here for a vacation."

"C'mon, Cap!" Sam exclaimed. "We've got _miles _of coastline stretching out in front of her." He turned toward the ocean and spread both his arms out wide. "Margaritas, suntans; _bikinis! _And all you can think about is _work?" _Sam shook his head.

"I have never been in the ocean." Wanda chimed in.

"See?!" Sam dropped one arm and held the other one out toward Wanda instead. "At least let the woman live a little."

Steve cast a look over at Natasha.

"Don't look at me," she said. "You know my stance on bikinis."

Steve rolled his eyes. If Natasha thought the scar on her abdomen from the slug she'd taken from the Winter Soldier disqualified her from swimming suits, she was insane. He didn't say anything, though. Instead, he looked back over to Wanda and Sam.

"That decline doesn't look too steep," he said, nodding toward the guardrail and the slope that descended from it. "If you wanna get your toes in the sand, you've gotta earn it. Either way, we leave in ten."

Wanda and Sam exchanged looks.

"No Falcon suit," Steve added.

"Fun sucker," Sam grumbled.

Regardless, he and Wanda were heading for the guardrail and then stepping over it. They headed down the sloping hillside toward the water. Natasha was pretty sure she caught a glimpse of red that suggested Wanda might have been using her powers to give herself a little help with the decline, but she didn't bring any attention to it. She tucked her hands into her back pockets and took a few steps forward, bringing herself next to Steve. They watched Sam and Wanda head downhill in silence for a few moments.

"That was nice, what you said." Steve said, looking at Natasha. "About family."

Natasha shrugged. "Some people just need to be reminded that they belong every once in a while."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," he said.

Natasha looked at him, her brow furrowing for a quick second. A look passed before her eyes, like she was fighting against some instinct to be angry or defensive at what he said. She knew that there was no harm meant by the statement, though. She could see it in the softness on Steve's face and the kindness in his blue eyes. Steve could be a hard man with a resolve firmer than a steel plate, but he was also incredibly empathetic. Understanding, even when he had no reason to be. Natasha sighed and allowed herself to soften a bit, too.

"I spent the majority of my life being told I had no place in this world," she told him. "And believing it. And even though no one has specifically told me otherwise," she chuckled, "the years have started to make me feel a bit differently. S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers… it started to feel like I'd found my niche, you know?"

Steve frowned a bit, despite himself. He felt responsible for taking Natasha out of that niche. "I'm sorry," he said with a shake of his head. "You shouldn't have had to leave all that. You should still be with Stark-"

"I'm not so sure _Tony _even wants to be with Tony right now," Nat pointed out. "Besides, I didn't _have _to do anything. I made a choice." Her green eyes held Steve's for a few seconds. "I still think I made the right one."

The softness of her smile, the colorful life in her cheeks; the confident light in her eyes was impossible to ignore. Steve had always known Natasha was beautiful- it would take a blind fool not to realize that- but it wasn't the outward appearance he found himself struck by now. It was the beautiful person inside that had been slowly coming out, like a butterfly from a cocoon, over the years that gave him pause. She emerged cautiously, step by step; carefully observing the world around her to make sure it was a safe space to be in. A place that wouldn't crush her wings the second she spread them. It stirred a certain feeling in Steve that he hadn't felt since…

Natasha's phone started chirping in her pocket. "It's Fury," she said before she even retrieved the device.

"How do you know that?" Steve asked.

"Because he's the only one who has this number." She headed back to the van to take the call. "Fury," she said as she slid into the front passenger seat. "Miss me already?"

"Like a hole in the head, Romanoff." He teased. "I see the Raft had a near-catastrophic systems failure with one of the flood doors. You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that, would you?"

"Not exactly," she said. "Is this my heads up phone call?"

"Not exactly," Fury said back. "I need your help."

The seriousness of his tone had Natasha at close attention. Fury went on to explain that Agent Phil Coulson had been kidnapped. Apparently his staged death and relocation hadn't been enough to keep him safe. A former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent by the name of John Garrett, who had defected and gone rogue several years ago and had been believed dead for two years, now, was believed to be at the center of the kidnapping. Fury feared that Garrett took Coulson in the hopes of getting information out of him about a tabled cybernetic testing procedure called Project: Deathlok. The project had been initiated and administered by a Hydra cell within S.H.I.E.L.D., and, when it was discovered, it was immediately disbanded.

"So, more S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets in need of protecting," Natasha said.

"This isn't about secrets, Romanoff. This is about protecting our own. Coulson is a good agent and a damn good man. I owe it to him to get him home safely."

"Why don't you ask one of the 'registered heroes' for help?"

Fury scoffed. "You _might _be surprised to find out that all that paperwork the heroes have to sign doesn't exactly fly through the system. It takes just as long to get their 'permits' as it does to get your damn picture taken at the BMV. S.H.I.E.L.D. is, of course, in _full _cooperation with the Accords, but this case isn't exactly on their radar right now."

"Full cooperation," Natasha repeated, unconvinced. "Right." She sighed. The fact that this John Garrett guy had taken Coulson at all meant he thought that Coulson _had _the knowledge he was looking for. Which meant that, whatever this tabled "project" had been, its secrets were still circulating around somewhere inside of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Damnit, Fury." Natasha sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. "When are you guys going to learn your lesson?"

"Listen, Romanoff," Fury was quick to reply. "There are a _lot _of things that S.H.I.E.L.D. should have burned to the ground back in the day, but I wasn't the only one making those calls. Some things are out of even _my _hands."

Natasha wasn't sure she bought that, but she didn't say anything about it.

"I need someone I can trust on this." Fury said.

"I know…" Natasha swiveled her gaze to the side, where she saw Steve watching with a worried expression where she'd left him standing. "Steve's not going to like this."

"Yeah, well tell the Golden Boy he'd like things a lot less if he had the U.N. breathing down his neck. Which he _doesn't_, by the way, because yours truly may or may not have submitted a false lead that currently has a group of headhunters freezing their asses off in the Swiss Alps."

"Alright," Natasha said as she stepped out of the van. "Send me all the information you have."

"Already done," Fury replied. "Bring Coulson home, Romanoff. I'm counting on you."

The line went dead without any exchange of goodbyes. It wasn't a surprise. Fury wasn't exactly the sentimental type. Natasha slid her phone in her back pocket and walked around to the back of the van. She opened the double doors and heard Steve approach as she fished through a bag for her laptop. When she found it, Nat took a seat on the floor of the van, her feet resting on the ground outside, and rested the computer in her lap.

"What is it?" Steve asked. He stood in front of her, partially blocking out the sun and casting a shadow down on Natasha. She looked up at him, her brow furrowed to match his.

"It's Coulson," she said. "He's been taken."

She scooted over enough to allow Steve some room to take a seat next to her. He did. It wasn't exactly spacious, but it allowed him to see what she was pulling up on her laptop. Files on Garrett- mission reports, psychological reports; surgery records- were pulled up alongside the last known location of Coulson… and information on Project Deathlok. It had started out as a means to integrate cybernetic enhancements into soldiers who were wounded on the field. Garrett had been the recipient of such enhancements. When his Jeep had crashed in a minefield in the Middle East, Project Deathlok had put him together again. He was able to keep his life, but he'd lost most of his humanity in the process. Now, Garrett was looking to find whatever remnants of the project he could, presumably to make more soldiers like himself.

Unsurprisingly, this hit a little close to home for Steve. He stared at the computer screen, taking all of the information in with a less-than-pleased look on his face.

"How many more people have to suffer because of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s inability to let things go?" He said darkly.

"I know," Natasha said, looking over at him. "Trust me, I know, but… this is about Coulson. He's helped us, Steve. He's helped a _lot _of us in some pretty big ways. We owe it to him to-"

"I know." Steve sighed. He lifted his gaze to meet Natasha's. He watched the way her green eyes darted between his blue hues, searching. Always searching. "We'll go," Steve said. "Of course we'll go."

Natasha smiled before looking back to her computer screen. "Guess Coulson should have retired after New York."

Steve huffed out a quiet chuckle. "Retirement doesn't seem to work out so great for people like us."

"I wouldn't know," Nat said as she typed. "I've never tried."

Steve looked at her. He supposed he'd never really tried, either. He'd been fighting one war, went down in the ice and woke up decades later only to get thrown right into another one. All he'd known since he opened his eyes was fighting. He wondered what that would look like: retirement. He wondered what a person like himself would do if there wasn't a battle to be fought; a way of life to protect. What would he do? What would _Natasha _do? Would she continue to travel the world? Would she settle down? Would she dance?

Several seconds of feeling his eyes on her had Natasha looking up from her computer once more. She fixed Steve with her green gaze, her brow furrowed in confusion and worry. "You alright, Rogers?" She asked with a little tilt of her head. "It looks like the old turntable might be skipping."

Steve blinked a few times and cleared his throat. He shook his head and looked back down at the computer, doing his best to fight the feeling of complete ridiculousness that was creeping up the back of his neck and threatening to wrap up into his cheeks.

"Just thinking." He said. Then, he nodded toward the computer. "So, where are we headed?"

Natasha looked at him for a few seconds longer, not buying his explanation. She ultimately decided to let it go, though, and returned her gaze to the laptop.

"Bahrain," she said. "It looks like Coulson was looking into some kind of," she leaned closer to read the exact quote from the case file, "'suspicious natural phenomena' when he disappeared. His subdermal GPS tracked him a few miles outside of the Adliya neighborhood on the northern tip of the island. After that, it goes dark. Garrett must have removed it."

"Do you think they'd leave the island?" Steve asked.

Natasha shook her head. "I don't think they'd want to risk being in the air, knowing that S.H.I.E.L.D. will have people looking for Coulson. They'll think they're safer on the ground. More places to hide."

"Well, then, I guess we better start seeking." Steve said.

Natasha rolled her eyes and groaned. "Jeeze, Rogers. Your jokes are almost as outdated as your wardrobe."

"You know what, Romanoff…"

She fixed him with a half smirk, unphased by the faux stern look he was giving her. Ultimately, Steve just sighed and shook his head. He leaned his shoulder into Natasha's, pushing her to the side a bit as a small means of retaliation as he stood up and out of the van. She watched him with that same smirk still plastered on her face. She had to give him credit. Steve took her teasing pretty well. God knows he'd had to put up with enough of it over the years. Sometimes she just couldn't help it. The reactions she got showed Natasha the man beneath the mantle. Steve Rogers, the slightly awkward guy from Brooklyn; not always the fearless leader they all knew. She was just as fond as both of those personas, though. They'd both been just as kind to her over the years.

"Guess we better rally the troops." Natasha said, closing her laptop. She slid it back into the bag it was in and nestled it safely into place with some other things. Then, she stood up out of the van and closed the back doors once more.

She tucked a few loose strands of red hair behind her ear and walked over to the guardrail. Her sharp gaze peered down the hillside and to the water's edge, where Sam was holding Wanda's boots so the woman could experience the feeling of her toes in sand and water. Wanda was holding her auburn locks in one hand and looking down at her feet. Natasha could just barely see the smile on Wanda's face. It almost looked like disbelief. She felt a small pang of guilt for having to interrupt what was clearly a good moment, but Coulson's life was at stake. They couldn't let that hang in the balance because of some water.

Natasha tucked the tips of her index and middle fingers between her lips and let out a shrill whistle. It got the attention of Sam and Wanda easily enough. When they turned to look up her way, Natasha waved one arm and then tapped the watch on her wrist. It was time to go.

By the time they made it back up to the road, Sam and Wanda seemed to know that something was up. Maybe Wanda was reading minds, or maybe she was just reading mannerism. Regardless, she had a far more serious look on her face than she wore a few minutes ago. Natasha informed the two of them of the job they had to do. Whether or not they were as personally invested in the task as Nat and Steve were, Wanda and Sam seemed ready and willing to accept it. Despite his jokes, everyone knew that Sam hadn't _really _stuck around for a vacation. He was there because there was still a job to do. That job, right now, was to get Agent Coulson back home. Alive.

So, they piled back into the van. Natasha occupied the driver's seat, with Steve taking the passenger seat behind her. Sam and Wanda sat in the back. With no working air conditioning, they were forced to cruise the roadways with their windows down. The noise kept talking to a minimum, but no one seemed particularly conversational at the moment anyway. They were all thinking, preparing themselves in their own way, for the mission ahead. If this John Garrett guy was as dangerous as his case files made him out to be, they would have their work cut out for them. It was a race against the clock to find Coulson, hopefully before something terrible happened to him. Something that couldn't be undone.


	4. Bahrain

Bahrain was more beautiful than anyone expected it to be. Well, mostly everyone. Natasha had been to the country once before, but even she seemed to appreciate the aesthetic of it. The capital, Manama, was an impressive city with some pretty amazing architecture. It always amazed Steve to see the various steel giants that were erected all over the world. The Bahrain World Trade Center was one of those giants. Its two, triangular-shaped towers were linked by three skybridges, each of which were equipped with a wind turbine that helped provide sustainable energy to the building. It was sleek and beautiful, standing tall among the other buildings and city streets. They only saw it from the sky, as the Quinjet was just passing over downtown Manama, but it was still an amazing sight.

The Adliya neighborhood was slightly less glamorous. South of Manama, Adliya was without all of the glittering skyscrapers and glass-buildings. It consisted of smaller structures, slightly crammed together in a way that was oddly reminiscent of New York City, but with far more sand and dust. It was a very brown landscape, lacking in color and shade. Natasha and Sam piloted the Quinjet, circling it around Adliya and the surrounding areas in recon formation.

"What do you think, Nat?" Steve asked from behind her chair.

"See that big structure jutting out into the water on the southern coastline, there?" She pointed out. "That's the BASRAC container repair division. They've been known to have some shady operations in the past. Plenty of things moving in and out that shouldn't. And all those units floating in the water south of it?" She glanced up at Steve.

"Might just be the perfect place to hide someone." He surmised.

"I can get us landing clearance to that helipad to the northeast," Nat said. "After that, we'll have to hoof it down to the docks."

"A little exercise never killed anyone," Steve said. "Let's do it."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Natasha remarked with a grin.

The reference was lost on her target, but she saw Sam shaking his head in the seat next to her. At least _someone _appreciated a little pop culture. She let him take control of the jet while she worked on getting that clearance she was talking about. It didn't take much to hack into the flight organization system and mark themselves as some very wealthy, very influential people who would be landing their private jet on the waterside. Still, they had to be careful. There was an American Naval Base a few miles north that had some potential for trouble. Natasha had to think that Garrett was taking the same precautions to remain undetected. It was her hope that taking similar precautions would more easily lead them to where Garrett was holing up with Coulson.

"Sam, when we get this thing grounded, I want you to fly out and scout ahead. Take a look around BASRAC." Steve said. "See if you can any possible sign of Coulson, number of potential threats, exit routes; the works."

"Copy that," Sam replied with a nod.

"Wanda, you'll head to the docks with Nat and I on foot. Once we're in, we'll need you to keep an eye on the entrance, just in case Garrett decides to call in any reinforcements."

Wanda nodded her understanding. She was still working on getting a better handle on her powers, which meant they still had the potential to get out of control. The last thing any of them needed was for her to lose control on the middle of a floating slab full of storage units. The closer she was to land, the better it would be for all of them. Natasha felt bad for sidelining her like this. She felt even worse for the fact that none of them were equipped to help Wanda better understand or hone her abilities. She told herself that they would get her help, eventually. It was just another item to add to an already long list of tasks, though. The last thing she wanted was for Wanda to get pushed to the wayside. She was far too important, and far too powerful, a member of the team for that.

The jet was soon landed. Natasha tore up an old shirt to make a couple of quick headscarves for herself and Wanda to wear. It wasn't wholly necessary to fit in with the dress code of the locals, but it would help to keep unwanted attention away from them, especially Natasha. Her red hair wouldn't go unnoticed in a place like this. When they exited the aircraft, Natasha did most of the talking with the employee at the landing pad. He seemed skeptical at first, but her smooth voice and fluency in his language seemed to do a good enough job at keeping suspicion at bay. She guessed that this wasn't the first questionable group to land here. She imagined that the man had his palms greased before.

Sam had a heavy backpack slung over his shoulder that was packed with his flight gear. When they made it to the street, he took a right and branched off from the other three, going his separate way. No one seemed too worried about him being alone. Sam had proven himself to be a smart and proficient ally. He wouldn't do anything to get himself noticed, at least not before he had to. With that assurance in mind, Steve, Natasha and Wanda headed southeast, for the docks. The side of town they were passing through wasn't particularly posh. There were more than a few shady figures lurking about. Natasha guessed that number would only increase with the dropping of the sun. It would be dark soon, and the cover of night would bolster the confidence of a lot of less-than-reputable characters.

"I can't speak their language," Wanda commented at one point, "but I can practically feel the disdain rolling off some of their shoulders."

Natasha cast her a sympathetic look. "They aren't exactly fond of foreigners, here." She said as she turned her gaze forward once more. "Especially women."

"I would like to _give _them something to be not fond of…" Wanda muttered.

Natasha chuckled quietly and shook her head. She appreciated Wanda's fire, as unstable as it could be at times. "I'm sure we'll get there eventually."

Steve hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he wasn't naive. He didn't expect Garrett to give Coulson up without a fight, and he didn't expect the man to be alone. It was highly unlikely that they would be able to do this thing quietly. They'd made a lot of noise at the Raft, but Steve hoped that whatever false leads Fury had fed the agents would keep them off their tail long enough to get Coulson to safety.

"So, what's the plan here?" Natasha's question broke into his thoughts. "Shoot first and ask questions later?"

He looked over at her. She seemed oddly… hopeful; with a little smirk on her lips and a perked eyebrow. He fixed her with a look and gave a little shake of the head. "Hardly," he said. "If we could not shoot, period, that would be great."

"Tell that to the other guys." Natasha said.

"I know," Steve replied. "Coulson's safety is our top priority. We can't do anything that puts him in danger. And," he added, "I think we can fully expect that his captors will use that to their advantage."

"Well," Natasha shrugged, "I can be flexible."

_I know, _Steve thought. _That's what worries me._

He said nothing, but he swore he saw Wanda glance over at him for a moment. He was still unclear as to what the exact scope of her abilities were. He didn't know if she could read minds, and if she could, if she _did _read them from time to time. It seemed a bit dishonorable, and not something that Wanda would do willingly, but there was a chance she didn't have complete control over everything. He made a mental note, as ironic as that was, to try and keep things quiet in there. Just in case.

The sun dipped lower as they walked until, eventually, it disappeared from the sky completely. It wasn't long after that Sam's voice sounded over the ear pieces they each wore.

"I'm seeing a lot of bodies down there," he said. "Either there are a lot of armed overtime workers, or Garrett's got friends."

Steve sighed. Guns and metal boxes on water, just what he was hoping for this evening. "Alright, what about entries and exits?"

"One main entry on the north side off the docks," Sam said. "But there's a lot of open space between containers. Kinda like a maze. I can thin out a few on the south side without too much noise."

"Sounds good," Steve said. "After that, be ready for a quick exit. If Coulson's hurt, we'll need you to get him to safety quickly."

"Got it," Sam said. "I'm goin' in."

Natasha just barely caught the sight of his plummeting figure in the distance. The thrusters from his jetpack looked something like a falling star in the night, but the light quickly disappeared behind the bulky structures of the storage units.

"I'll go ahead," Natasha told the others. "See what our front door situation is like."

"Careful." Steve said as she started jogging off.

Natasha turned around, running backwards for a few steps so she could grin back at Steve and Wanda. "Always," she said. Then, she turned around and jogged off.

Steve caught Wanda looking at him. "What?" He asked, caution and confusion in his voice.

Wanda shook her head and said nothing.

Nat truly did move like a Black Widow in the night. She was quick and quiet as she approached their target, skirting around just beneath the nose of her enemies without them ever having a clue until it was too late. In this particular instance, there were two men at the front of the dock, just off land. Natasha walked by the dock once, circled around, and walked past it again, this time much closer. When one of the guards approached her to tell her to move along, she skillfully wrapped one arm around his throat while hopping up and over his shoulder. She placed herself behind him, turning both herself and the guard toward his buddy on the dock. The other man barely had time to raise his gun before Natasha pointed her free hand at him and fired one of her Widow's Bites darts right into his chest. The electrical current had him hitting the deck, quite literally. He twitched for a few seconds before going unconscious. With him down, Natasha shoved her boot into the back of the knee of the guard she was holding. He was brought to a kneel, and she delivered a quick blow to the side of his head to knock him out.

"All clear," she told the others.

Steve and Wanda appeared a few minutes later. Steve observed Natasha's work. When he noticed there was no blood, and both guards were still breathing, he allowed himself a small sigh of relief. This didn't go unnoticed by Natasha. Steve still thought she was this cold, calculated, ruthless thing. In a way, she was. To certain people, at least. She had to present herself as a threat to her enemies. Fear was important. It didn't make her a monster, though. She'd come a long way from her days in the Red Room. Natasha wasn't without mercy, and it stung to think that Steve might still question her character.

"Were you expecting something else?" She asked him with no shortage of bite in her tone.

He didn't have time to answer, though. She didn't really give it to him. Instead, Natasha walked up to the front door and knocked, of all things. There must have been some code among the guards out front that if one of them knocked, someone on the inside opened the door and started talking angrily, because that's exactly what happened. A man yanked the door open and was mid-angry-shout when he noticed that it wasn't one of his companions, but rather a woman.

"What the-" this one spoke English. That was interesting.

"Wanna buy some cookies?" Natasha asked before promptly jabbing the guy in the throat and knocking him back into the building.

She was quick to follow him inside, as were Steve and Wanda. Natasha ducked beneath a wild swing from the man she'd just attacked, and Steve was right behind her to catch it. He caught the man's fist in his hand, squeezing tightly and holding the guy's arm out to his side. Natasha delivered a swift kick to the guy's gut, and when he was doubled over, Steve finished the job with a punch that knocked him out. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Don't move!" A man shouted from down the hall.

He raised a gun, but before he could fire it, a red energy encircled the weapon and lifted it right out of his hands. He watched in fear and confusion as the weapon disassembled itself right before his very eyes. Then, that same red energy grabbed him and slammed him into the wall, knocking him out cold. The source of that energy was, of course, Wanda. She stood behind Steve and Nat, her eyes glowing and her hands encompassed in the same color. She demonstrated an impressive level of control, but it was still too risky to take her much further inside. They were in too enclosed a space, and if something went wrong, it could be catastrophic. That seemed just fine with her, though. Wanda wasn't exactly a fan of small spaces.

They left her with instructions to watch the front, and if any help arrived, to handle it. If it became more than she could handle, she could call for help, and the others would circle back to assist her. While they advanced inside, Steve and Nat had Sam giving them some heads ups from the sky. He offered a bird's eye view, pun highly intended, of what they had left to deal with. Natasha thought it was almost like having cheat codes in a video game, telling you the exact turns and moves to make to ensure success. So far, it'd been working out great.

"Alright, looks like you've got two more coming up on your left." He said.

Natasha rounded the corner, jumped up onto one wall, pushed herself off of it, and landed on the shoulders of one of the guards. She wrapped her legs around his neck and twisted her body forward, using her momentum to flip him off of his own feet and onto the ground. She flipped off of him with the grace of a ballerina and then collapsed down with the force of a warrior to deliver a hard fist to his face before he could even hope to get up. Meanwhile, Steve took a slightly more direct approach. He rushed the second guard, slammed him against the wall, disarmed him with a chop to the arm and then knocked him out with a headbutt.

"And you say _my _methods are questionable…" Natasha muttered as she stood up.

"I didn't say that." Steve said, looking at her a bit breathlessly.

"You didn't have to."

She tried to brush past him, but before she could get anywhere, Steve reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Natasha spun toward him, a defiant look on her face. The makeshift hood she wore fell away from her face, revealing her fiery red waves. The confines of the hallway had them close. Close enough for Steve to see that, that fire wasn't just in her hair. It was in her green eyes, too. Steve didn't shy away from it, though. He wasn't afraid of the heat. If anything, he welcomed it.

"You wanna go ahead and explain what that means?" He asked quietly.

"I see the way you look at me," Natasha said.

_Do you?_ Steve found himself wondering.

"You think I'm going to rip these guys' spines out of their backs or something." She continued.

Steve actually chuckled at that. He knew it was going to earn another seething look from Nat, but he couldn't help himself. He shook his head and relaxed his grip on her arm but didn't let her go.

"Nat, I do _not _think that." He told her. "I just know that sometimes old habits-"

"I wouldn't call something ingrained in your head as a kid a _habit_." She shot back.

Steve sighed. "I'm just saying, I know how hard it can be to change."

"What about Bucky?" Natasha asked. "You trusted him."

"Nat, I _do _trust you."

"Do you?"

A moment of tense silence fell between them. They stood at an impasse, two stubborn forces refusing to budge. Natasha's eyes swiveled back and forth between his a few times. She thought she might have seen a bit of pain there, like she'd wounded Steve with that question, but it was hard to tell. Steve's brow furrowed a bit, and he pressed his lips in a firm line. The action caused those green eyes of hers to fall, just for a second. Natasha felt her cheeks burn with anger and… something else.

"Uh… guys?" Sam's voice broke into their earpieces. "We can still hear everything… remember?"

No, Steve had, in fact, not remembered that. Now, he felt like a world-class idiot. Some color rushed to his own cheeks, and he quickly released his hold on Natasha. Saying nothing, he started moving again, leading the way this time. Natasha's footsteps were barely audible behind him, and there were more than a few times he wanted to look back to see if she was still there. He didn't, though, because despite Natasha's beliefs, Steve _did _trust her. And that trust included trusting her to watch his back, despite the little argument that had just formed between them. Still, he couldn't keep his mind from turning it all over. Natasha was right. He _was _treating her differently than he had treated Bucky, even though they were both victims of very similar circumstances. That wasn't fair, and realizing that made him feel like an even _bigger _idiot than he had before.

Steve paused and turned around. "Nat…"

Before he could say anything, Natasha shoved him against a wall. She pushed herself backwards as she did so, creating an aisle of space between them through which a bullet flew. She fired another Widow's Bite, hitting the shooter down the hall in the arm and forcing him to drop his weapon. Steve wasted no time in pushing himself away from the wall and rushing the guard. The man was quick to pull a knife from his boot with his opposite hand and swipe it at Steve. The serrated blade just barely missed his abdomen as he hopped back to avoid the attack. When the man swiped again, Steve caught the attack with his forearm, redirecting it at the cost of allowing the blade to cut through his sleeve and bite into his flesh. He growled in pain and frustration and delivered a left hook that was perhaps a little _too _fueled. It knocked the guy's head to one side and threw his whole body into the wall beside him. Needless to say, when he fell, he didn't get back up.

Natasha jogged up behind Steve. She looked down to the fallen guard, and then to Steve's arm. She could see blood glistening against the dark color of his sleeve. "You okay?" She asked, all of that previous ire having dissipated into worry.

"Yeah," he nodded, looking down at his arm. He flexed his fingers a few times before lifting his gaze to Natasha's. "Thanks."

"Guys, you've got five incoming. Looks like everyone heard the shot and are heading your way. Except for two signatures holed up in a unit to your north." Sam informed them.

"That must be where Garrett has Coulson," Steve said.

"Mmhm." Natasha looked down the hall. "So much for keeping things quiet."

"Let's just make this quick," Steve said. "If Garrett feels backed into a corner, he might get jumpy."

Natasha nodded and pulled the batons from her back.. She attached them together and charged them up. Quick wouldn't be a problem for her. She and Steve emerged from the repair bay and found themselves outside among the rows of storage containers. Steve turned to the right and went low while Natasha struck out with her weapon, clotheslining the closest guard. Steve skirted past him as he fell and shouldered into the gut of a second guard, tackling him to the ground. He punched him and grabbed his gun, which he threw at the second closest guard. The man held up his arm to fend off the flying weapon, but it left him open to Natasha, who struck him on the side of the leg with her staff. She flipped it around and swung it the other way, whacking him across the side of the face just as his knee buckled from the first hit. She spun to the side just as another man opened fire, narrowly avoiding his bullets.

"More men are approaching from the front," Wanda's voice crackled in their earpieces.

"Keep them out of here, Wanda!" Steve shouted over the sounds of fighting. "Sam, fly in and give her air coverage."

"On it." Sam said. Steve looked up just as he zoomed by.

Natasha started running and used her staff to vault herself up and over the two remaining guards that were rushing toward Steve and herself. This split their focus between the two of them, and the second they realized that, there was a very clear look of panic of panic in their eyes. Natasha couldn't help the little smirk that formed on her face the moment the man she was facing realized he had bitten off way more than he could chew. Nat had to give him credit, though. He holstered his gun and pulled out a pretty big knife that she was sure he was just _so _proud of. It seemed he was going to hold his own… or at least try to. She unscrewed her batons to separate them once more. She figured she might as well make this a little fun.

While the Black Widow deflected blows and toyed with her prey, Steve was trading punches with a man who was just about as big as he was. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a face as mean as a grizzly bear and a punch that was just as strong. Steve took a couple of jarring shots to the ribs, but on the second hit, he trapped the guy's arm between his side and his own arm. Then, he caught the guard's fist in his hand, took a half step back, and placed a powerful kick square in the guy's chest. Steve released his hold on both arms and watched as the guy went flying backwards. His back smacked into the unforgiving steel of a storage unit, which rang out with an echoing _thud _upon impact. Huffing a few, heavy breaths, Steve stalked over to the fallen guard, who was coughing after having the wind knocked out of him.

"Any chance of you just sitting here and calling it a night?" He asked.

The man said something in Arabic and spat blood and saliva at Steve's boot.

Steve sighed. "Didn't think so," he said. Then, he knocked the guy out with a right hook.

The guard was soon joined by his companion. Natasha rolled under a mad swipe from his knife, pinned his ankle between her feet, and twisted hard. He went down with a pained growl, and when he was on the ground, Natasha rolled forward, placing herself on top of the guard. She pinned his knife hand beneath her knee and delivered a quick, one-two combo with her batons, knocking his face left, and then right. He was out like a broken lightbulb after that. Satisfied, she hopped to her feet. She put her batons away and stood with her hands on her hips for a few moments, observing the chaos… or admiring it, more like.

Unfortunately, their victory was short-lived.

The loud sound of sliding metal could be heard nearby. Natasha and Steve both ran for it, weaving between storage containers and rounding a corner to find the source of the noise. They came to a skidding halt by a unit at the edge of the dock and looked up. On top of the unit was a bulky, monstrosity of a man. He was a grotesque patchwork of metal and flesh, making him appear more machine than man. His chest, arms and legs were all thick, gray metal. The flesh of his face, neck and hands were all marred and mangled, as if he'd been caught in an intense fire at some point. A grenade belt hung around his waist. In one hand, he held a gun, in the other…

"Coulson…" Natasha breathed.

The Agent was tied to a chair, which Garrett was lifting effortlessly with one arm, holding the weight of both the chair and Coulson like it was nothing. "Captain America and the Black Widow!" He called down to them. His voice was warped and rough, as if each spoken word was agony to his throat.

"I have to say, this is the first time I've been hunted by other criminals!"

Natasha pulled her gun and trained it on Garrett. There would be no toying around this time. "Let him go!" She shouted up to him.

"You're surrounded," Steve said, a bit more calmly. "There's no place for you to go. Just let Coulson down and lower your weapon."

"No place to go?" Garrett mused. He looked over his shoulder, at the vast expanse of water that stretched out like black tar in the night. "I can think of plenty of places."

Then, without warning, Garrett reared his metal arm back and chucked Coulson, chair and all, into the air. Instinct took over. Natasha and Steve ran for Coulson, hoping beyond hope that they might be able to intercept him before he crashed into the water. Garrett hopped down from the storage bin, landing with a loud boom on the dock below. Natasha was just barely aware of the direction he went, more of her focus on getting to Coulson. She watched in horror as cleared the edge of the dock and went for the water. Steve was preparing to jump over the edge when Sam came zooming in out of nowhere, grabbing Coulson just in the knick of time.

"I got him!" Sam yelled as he put more power into his thrusters to account for the extra weight.

That was all Nat needed to hear. She turned and, without a second's notice, took off running.

"Romanoff!" Steve yelled.

Nat didn't listen. Garrett had gotten a head start, but he was big, bulky, slow; much slower than she was. She holstered her gun and retrieved her batons, instead. Screwing them together, Natasha used the staff to vault herself into the air once more. She landed on top of a storage unit and started running and jumping from unit to unit, using the higher elevation to keep an eye on Garrett. He was heading west, toward the far edge of the dock, where a small boat was waiting in the water for him. His big, metal legs were loud as he ran with noisy, clunking footsteps toward his destination. He looked over his shoulder and saw Natasha above him. A smirk pulled at her lips. She was gaining on him.

Steve was on the ground, pursuing both of them, when he saw it. Garrett unclipped a grenade from his belt, turned, and threw it up into the air behind him. He watched, wide-eyed, as the grenade got closer. Natasha tried to stop herself, to prevent herself from getting any closer to it, but as she jumped into the air off the side of a storage unit, the bomb went off.

"NAT!"

Heat and force smacked into her like a train, knocking her off-course and sending her flying toward what would undoubtedly be a nasty collision with another unit. Steve launched himself into the air with every ounce of enhanced strength he possessed. He closed the distance between himself and Natasha, grabbing her and wrapping her up in his strong arms. He turned his body and allowed his back to smack into the hard metal of the storage unit, taking the full brunt of the impact. Pain exploded in his back, reverberating up and down his spine and pulling a loud growl from him.

When the pain subsided enough for him to see straight, Steve looked down at Natasha. Fear gripped his chest when he saw her. The side of her face was smeared in ash and blood. He pressed a hand against her head, pushing back red hair to find the source of the bleeding.

"Natasha." He said, shaking her gently. "Nat, wake up."

He waited for those green eyes to open, but they didn't. Steve lowered his head and turned his ear toward her mouth and nose while he pressed two fingers against her neck beneath her chin. He could feel warm, shallow breaths against his cheek, and a pulse beneath his fingers. Steve closed his eyes and allowed a sigh of relief to wash out of him. _Thank God. _He thought. Natasha was alive, but she was in bad shape. They needed to get out of here.

"Cap!" Sam yelled. Steve looked up to see him landing nearby with Coulson. The agent had been removed from his chair, and had one arm looped around Sam's shoulders. He could walk, but he had quite a limp. They came to a stop a few feet away.

"Shit," Sam breathed. "Is… is she…?"

"She's unconscious," Steve said. He was surprised at how tightly his throat squeezed. He cleared it and tried again. "We have to get out of here. Where's Wanda?"

"Here." The woman said. She floated in on a current of red energy and came to kneel beside Steve and Natasha. Her worry was palpable.

"I have a contact in the city," Coulson said weakly. "A doctor." That was good. It looked like he would be needing one as well.

"Let's go." Steve said. He scooped Natasha up into his arms and stood up. Sam and Wanda helped Coulson, and, together, they started their escape. There was fire and wreckage, chaos all around them. As Steve took one last look over his shoulder, he couldn't help but to hear Natasha's words echoed in his mind.

_So much for keeping things quiet._


	5. Wake-Up Call

Natasha opened her eyes to cream-colored curtains and yellow walls. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her head felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton. There was a buzzing in her ears, and a soreness on her left side. Her shoulder, arm, and fingers felt stiff, and her ribs felt tight. She took a slow, cautious breath to inflate her lungs and test their durability as her mind struggled to recap the events that had brought her here. Wherever "here" was." She remembered the BASRAC unit, finding Coulson, chasing Garrett; then the explosion. God... the explosion.

A quiet groan escaped her lips.

"Nat?"

Steve perked up from the chair he was sitting in. It was positioned off to the side of the bed, tucked slightly away in the corner. It was small for his large body, stiff and uncomfortable, but he'd hardly left it. He'd been too worried to even sleep, let alone get up and roam about the strange, small house they'd found themselves in. Now, he was pushing himself to a stand and pulling the chair closer to the bed. Natasha watched him, some groggy confusion on her face.

"Hey," he said quietly as he settled back down into the chair. "How are you feeling?"

Natasha touched the side of her head, where a bandage was in place. She winced a little, closing her eyes for a second. Another groan left her.

"That good, huh?" Steve chuckled, though it did little to lighten his expression. Worry knitted his brows together and pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Nat forced herself to sit up. It took some effort, but she managed to slide up and lean her back against the wall. Someone had dressed her in a loose fitting t-shirt and some sweatpants. "Where are we?" She asked, turning her eyes to Steve. "Coulson… is he?"

"Coulson is going to be just fine," Steve assured her. "It's you we were worried about. Natasha," he fixed her with a serious look.

_Here it comes,_ she thought.

"You could've gotten yourself killed."

Defensiveness bubbled up inside of her, chasing away the rest of her grogginess and replacing it with anger. She was _not _in the mood for this. Grabbing a fistful of blankets, Natasha flipped them off of her so she could swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She placed her feet on the ground and sat facing Steve for a moment.

"I didn't think letting that psycho get away seemed like a particularly good idea," she said coolly.

"The mission was to get Coulson." Steve said.

Heat rose up the back of Natasha's neck and coiled around it like a snake. "There _was _no _mission!" _She exclaimed. "We aren't S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore, Steve. We aren't _Avengers _anymore!"

Steve felt the bite of her words. He knew what they insinuated. They weren't Avengers anymore, and part of that was his fault. He couldn't help but to feel like Natasha blamed him for that. He didn't fault her. How could he? It was his fault that she'd been put in that position, after all, forced to choose between sides. He looked down for a second, keeping his expression calm despite the feelings swirling around in his chest.

"You're right," he finally said, "but that doesn't give you an excuse to almost get yourself killed."

"Because _you're _the guy to give lessons on recklessness." Natasha growled. She pushed herself to a stand, perhaps a bit too quickly. Pain stabbed into her side and made her head swim. Before she knew it, the world was spinning around her.

Steve was there in an instant. He shot up from his chair and grabbed her, wrapping an arm around her waist and securing her against him.

"Natasha-"

"Don't," she warned.

"Listen to me." He tightened his grip just a little. Just enough to keep her there. She was so close, just inches away. He could feel her anger and pain radiating off of her. He could see it swirling around her deep green hues. He could see his own reflection there, too. Where she wore anger, he wore fear.

"I'm _sorry._" He said emphatically. "For making it seem like I don't trust you. For doubting you. I shouldn't have done it."

"Then why did you?" She asked. She kept her sharp gaze on his face, refusing to look away or back down, even at this proximity.

"I don't know," he admitted with a shake of his head. "A lot's happened. There's a lot I'm not so sure of anymore, but what I _do _know is that I couldn't have done any of this without you. These last few years… you've helped me more than you know. I've been… confused about some things. Unsure. I see now that I shouldn't have been. I don't want to lose you, Nat. I-"

A knock sounded at the door and shattered the little bubble that Natasha wasn't even aware had formed around them. It was like someone had taken a needle to a water balloon and popped it right over her head. It doused her and left her cold and breathless. Steve reluctantly released his hold on her, and Natasha found herself feeling even colder in his absence. She slowly sat back down on the bed, too confused and shocked to really say or do anything. She just stared at the door as it opened and a woman she didn't recognize walked in.

"Oh!" She exclaimed quietly. "You're awake. Good!"

She was a short, slender woman with thick, dark hair and olive skin. A pair of glasses rested low on the bridge of her nose. There was a stethoscope draped over her shoulders. Natasha assumed that this meant she was the doctor who had patched her up.

"I'm Dr. Shadid," the woman said, confirming Natasha's suspicions. She stepped forward and extended a hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I would be if it weren't for you," Natasha replied, shaking the doctor's hand. "Thank you."

"Happy to help," Shadid said. "I'd like to check you out, if that's alright?" She turned her brown eyes up to Steve.

Steve had been in a bit of a daze, himself. Only now was he clearing his throat and bringing himself back into focus. He offered the doctor a small smile. "Right," he said. "I'll give you some privacy."

Natasha's eyes followed him as he left the room and closed the door behind him. Her gaze stayed on the door, even after he was gone. What the hell just happened? One second they were arguing, and the next he was telling her he didn't want to lose her? Had she been hurt that badly? Did she really give him that much of a scare? Natasha felt guilt settle in her gut. Maybe she shouldn't have been so harsh.

"A good man, that one." Dr. Shadid said. She took a pen light and shone it in Natasha's eyes, testing her pupils. "Poor thing was worried sick about you. Rightfully so, too." She pulled the stethoscope from around her neck and placed the eartips in her ears.

"I hate to think what would've happened from that blast if he hadn't caught you. Deep breath, please."

Steve walked the narrow hallway and out to the living room, where Sam and Wanda were sitting. Coulson was still resting in another room, and probably would be for a while. Technically, Natasha should've been, too, but Steve wasn't surprised that she was too stubborn to even sleep. Sam and Wanda looked up when they saw him.

"How is she?" Sam asked.

"She's awake," Steve offered. Beyond that, he wasn't sure. "Doc's taking a look at her now."

"Can I see her?" Wanda asked. She had been surprisingly worried about Natasha the whole time.

Steve gave a nod and a small smile. "Sure," he said. "I'm sure she'd like that." He hoped she would at least like it better than she'd apparently liked seeing him.

Wanda stood up and left the room. Steve took a seat on the couch where she'd been. He sank into the cushions, settling like a deep weight into the ocean. He had changed out of his gear and into a t-shirt and jeans. The cut on his arm was bandaged, and he was in no shortage of discomfort from slamming into one of those storage bins, but he'd fared a lot better than other members of their party. Still, he was tired. For a lot of reasons.

"What's on your mind, man?" Sam asked from beside him.

A humorless chuckle left Steve. He shook his head and looked over at Sam. "You know… I'm not entirely sure. There's a lot there. Between the Accords, and this stuff with S.H.I.E.L.D. and Garrett…"

"And Romanoff…" Sam said.

"What?"

"Oh, come on man." Sam shot him a look. "Are we really gonna do this?" He turned a bit, angling his body toward Steve. "I know how worried you were."

"We were all worried."

Sam ignored him. "I see the way you look at each other. You've been through a lot together. More than most. You _argue _like a damn married couple…" He let his words trail off and just looked at Steve.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, as if afraid that Natasha would come walking down the hallway at any second. He'd already shot himself in the foot enough. The last thing he needed was to do it again. Still, he couldn't be dishonest with Sam. Sam was a good friend, and he just wanted to help. Sighing, Steve returned his gaze to his friend.

"I don't know," he said. "After Peggy, I just…"

"Peggy's gone, Steve." Sam said, not unkindly. "And, look, I didn't know her, but if I did… I'd bet she wouldn't want to see your ass moping around for the rest of your life. She'd want you to be happy. I think you deserve that much."

Steve wasn't so sure what he deserved. He felt like he'd done a lot more harm that good lately. Especially when it came to Nat. Besides, just because he felt some way didn't mean that she did, too. Leaning forward, Steve placed his forearms on the tops of his thighs and just stared off into space for a moment. He thought about Peggy and what Sam said. He knew Sam was right. He knew Peggy wanted him to be happy. She'd said as much before she'd passed away. In those brief moments of clarity, she would tell him that he needed to live his life. Maybe it was time to start taking that advice.

"Even if I did want… that," Steve said, glancing over at Sam, "I don't see how it's possible. At this point, I'm pretty sure the only thing Nat wants to do with me is to punch my lights out."

That pulled a little laugh from Sam. "That's because you're treating her like a piece of glass, Cap. She's not a flower. She's more capable than _my _ass, I know that much. Through all this… craziness we've been through, Natasha has always been right by your side. As an equal. I don't know why the hell some people think that caring for someone means standing in front of them at all times, but that's not how it works. Especially not with a woman like that."

Steve gave Sam a thoughtful look. "If you know so much about women, why are you still single?"

"That is a _choice_, my man." Sam said, clapping Steve on the shoulder a bit too roughly. Steve just clamped his teeth together and ignored the pain that reverberated down his spine. Sam stood up and smiled down at him. "I'm gonna take a lap; make sure things still look quiet out there."

Steve nodded his understanding, and his thanks, and watched Sam go. When he was alone, Steve sighed and leaned back against the couch. He rested his head against the back cushion and looked up at the ceiling. Sam was right. About everything. Somewhere along the lines, Steve had gotten it in his head that Natasha needed shielding. That she needed some kind of direction when, if anything, it was Steve who needed it. He'd been doubting her. Maybe it was his fault that she'd felt the need to go after Garrett. Maybe she'd been trying to prove herself to him. Regardless of the reason, Steve knew that, if he wanted Natasha to trust _him _again, he needed to give her reason to. He still believed in her, perhaps now more than ever, and he cared about her… more than he thought. That didn't have to change things, though, did it? It could just… make them better. Maybe.

He must have dozed off because when Steve opened his eyes, he wasn't alone. Natasha was walking out into the living room with Wanda in tow. She had changed into a red tank top and a pair of black pants. She had small bandages covering some of the cuts on her arm, but the gauze from her head had been removed. Doctor Shadid had stitched her up pretty well, it seemed. She was still moving a bit slowly, though. Thankfully, Wanda stayed close, just in case. Sam was sitting in a chair, flipping through a magazine.

"Caught you sleeping on the job, Cap." Sam chided.

"Give him a break," Natasha said, much to Steve's surprise. "Your grandpa probably dozes off on the couch, too."

That part wasn't so much of a surprise. But it was good, right? She was being sarcastic, so… maybe she wasn't still mad? It was hard to tell with her. Her true feelings could easily be hidden beneath layers of false humor. Steve stood up to make room for Nat and Wanda on the couch. As they sat down, Doctor Shadid emerged from the kitchen with some tea. Her place wasn't very big, but it was accommodating. More importantly, she kept it stocked with all the things needed to fix up both Natasha and Coulson. Granted, nothing was as state of the art as what had been seen in some S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facilities, but it'd been enough to get them by. Shadid set the tray down on a small table in front of the sofa. It held four cups along with the teapot, some cream and sugar cubes. Wanda poured a cup for Natasha before making one for herself.

Wanda had been monumental in helping Natasha get back on her feet. She'd sat with her after the doctor finished her check-up, and while they might not have had any heart-to-hearts like Sam and Steve, there had been a sort of silent understanding and support that Natasha very much needed. Wanda didn't ask questions. She just sat with Natasha and showed her that she was there for her. Then, when she was ready, she helped Natasha get up and get dressed in something slightly less pathetic than pajamas. Natasha appreciated her more than she could say. She did just fine with Sam and Steve, but it was nice to have another female presence around. Wanda had become like a sister to Nat in a way. She was especially nice to have around after the whole… thing… with Steve. Whatever that was.

"How is Coulson?" Nat said as she took the cup.

"Alive," came a voice from the hallway. "Thanks to you guys."

Everyone turned to see Coulson limping his way out of one of the bedrooms. Sam and Steve made their way to him immediately, helping him over to the chair that Sam had been sitting in. The agent was wearing enough bandages to make him look like a mummy, and his arm was in a sling. He had some pretty severe bruising on one side of his face, and his eye was a bit swollen. With the help of Sam and Steve, he slowly lowered himself into the chair and released a heavy sigh.

"Should you be up?" Natasha asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," Coulson said with a smile. "I heard about the little fireworks display."

Natasha's gaze dropped to her teacup. Seeing this, Steve cleared his throat to take the attention away from her. "What happened with Garrett?" He asked.

Coulson sighed. "Well, I was working a case when he showed up. Preliminary stage; small team of men with me. Garrett and his group wiped them out without hesitation. Took me along with them. Seems he enlisted the help of some locals, along with a few of his own men. Makes me think he doesn't have much of an operation right now."

"What did he want?" Sam asked.

"Information," Coulson said. "About the project that made him the… handsome thing that he is today. It was a deep, deep underground project. A Hydra cell within S.H.I.E.L.D. was conducting it at the time. When S.H.I.E.L.D. found out about it, they tabled the project and arrested the people working on it."

"So, Garrett was looking for data?" Natasha asked.

Coulson shook his head. "The data was destroyed," he told them. "Garrett wants to know where the doctors who worked the project are being held. He wants to… 'liberate' them."

"So they can recreate the project," Nat surmised. She glanced up at Steve and saw what she expected to. Disdain, frustration; worry. Steve had a very personal history with super-soldier-creating projects. Not all of the results turned out as good as him.

"Did you give him anything?" Steve asked. He felt terrible for doing so, but he had to.

Coulson seemed to understand that. "No," he said, "but it might not matter. He took my phone, and seeing as I was… incapacitated at the time, I couldn't order data wipe until it was too late."

"So he may have access to the system." Natasha said. She furrowed her brow and looked down again, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"I've already called for the relocation of the prisoners," Coulson said, "but it could be risky. If Garrett gets his hands on just one of those doctors, he could rebuild the whole operation from the ground up."

"Yeah," Sam grunted, "and the last thing we need are more of _him _running around."

"So, what do we do?" Steve asked.

"_You _do nothing," Coulson replied. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for what you guys did for me, but we can't risk getting you involved any further. This is a S.H.I.E.L.D. case. Things weren't exactly quiet at the docks, either. You guys are going to need to lay low for awhile. I'm sure Fury will do everything he can to help, but in the meantime, you're going to need to be careful."

Natasha looked up again. She could tell by the look on his face that this wasn't going to fly with Steve. She could tell that he was already involved in this one and had no intention of backing out. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to, either. There was no guarantee that S.H.I.E.L.D. was even equipped to handle this right now. The organization was practically in shambles in the wake of the Sokovia Accords. There was a very real chance that Garrett could slip through the cracks. If that happened, it wouldn't be good for anyone. Natasha leaned forward and placed her cup on the table. Then, she slowly stood up. She caught Steve's gaze and nodded toward the hallway before walking off in that direction. Taking the hint, he followed her. They were back in the room that Natasha had woken up in, though the feelings that had been there before seemed pushed to the back burner for now. Nat tucked her hands into her back pockets and fixed her gaze on Steve.

"Coulson's right," she said quietly. "We do need to lay low for a bit, but…" she was quick to continue, seeing the way Steve was already preparing to argue, "we don't have to lay low forever."

"I can't let Garrett get away with what he's trying to do," Steve said. It felt personal now. For multiple reasons. One of those reasons was standing right in front of him.

"We need time to rest; to heal. We can gather information, get our ducks in a row, and then we can make our move. We don't have the kind of clearance we used to, Steve. We need to be smart about this."

Steve slid his baby blues to the side for a second, thinking. He folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath that he felt all the way down his spine. His very sore spine. After a few more moments, he nodded.

"Okay," he said. "We take some time, recoup; see what we can find about Garrett. Then, we go after him."

A half-smile formed on Natasha's face. That was the answer she wanted to hear. She tucked a stray lock of red hair behind her ear and gave a small nod. Before they headed back out to the others, though, there was something else she needed to say. It had her shifting her weight from foot to foot a bit nervously and rubbing her lips together a few times. Her green eyes fell to the ground before slowly lifting back up to meet Steve's.

"Doctor Shadid told me… what you did. Sounds like you saved my life. I wanted to say thank you for that."

Steve shrugged, his arms falling to his sides once more. "You would've done the same for me." He said with absolute certainty.

Natasha grinned. "I would've tried," she said. "But I think between me and the steel storage unit, the steel would've won."

Steve felt a smile pulling at his face. "Well, I guess let's not find out, then." He held her gaze for a few seconds. Then, he nodded towards the doorway. They needed to get back out there and tell Coulson what he wanted to hear.

So, that's what they did. Natasha walked out first and reclaimed her seat on the sofa next to Wanda. Steve leaned against the wall, arms across his chest once more. He let Natasha do the talking. She was better at smoothing feathers than he was. She told Coulson that they had a few places they could go. Doctor Shadid offered them to stay with her another day. Beyond that, she couldn't guarantee they wouldn't be found. That was alright. She had helped them all immeasurably, and no one wanted to put her in a more difficult situation than she was likely already in. Coulson would be making his way back to the states as soon as he was able to which would, hopefully, be in the next day or so. Steve didn't think they'd be sticking around to see him off. Natasha insisted she was well enough to travel, and no one questioned her on it. As a result, the plan was to leave that evening.

Not long after, while some were resting, Natasha found Doctor Shadid in the kitchen. The woman was drying some dishes, but stopped and greeted Nat while a smile when she saw her. Natasha returned the gesture, though she seemed a bit uncomfortable.

"What is it?" Shadid asked.

"I feel… really bad asking this," Nat said. "You've already done so much for us, but… I was wondering if there was one more favor I could ask of you?"

"Of course!" The doctor answered immediately. "What do you need?"

Natasha extended a small piece of paper to her. The doctor took it, unfolded it, and read what was written. A smile spread across her face, and she slowly lifted her gaze to meet Natasha's.

"I think I can handle this," she said.


	6. Recovery

Steve looked down at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. It was getting late. He was getting worried. "What's taking them so long?" He asked, more to himself than anything. Sam was in the room with him, though; so he graced Cap with an answer.

"Survival 101," Sam said, "don't ever try to hurry a lady when she's getting ready."

Sam was, again, sitting in the chair in Dr. Shadid's living room, leafing through a magazine. Steve narrowed his gaze at him; more specifically at the magazine. From where he was standing, it didn't look like it had any English on it.

"Can you even read that thing?" Steve asked.

Sam looked up and grinned. "I can read the pictures just fine."

Wanda and Natasha had disappeared into the bathroom quite some time ago with zero explanation. Steve had no idea what they were up to, but he was starting to worry that something was wrong. Nat took quite a beating from that explosion. What if she was hurt worse than she let on? What if she was sick? Surely the doctor would have said something if she didn't think Natasha was fit to leave, right? Steve wasn't sure. His blue eyes slid over to the couch, where Dr. Shadid was sitting. She was drinking tea. She looked calm. Maybe Steve should take a page from her book.

Finally, he heard a door open. A few seconds later, Wanda emerged from the hallway. What was behind her made Steve do a double take.

Natasha's shoulder-length hair had been cut to just below her chin, and her brilliant red locks were now… blonde. The change was so drastic (and unexpected) that it left Steve speechless. Natasha had been uncomfortable before she even stepped foot out of the bathroom, but now she was even more so. She knew that there would be some kind of reaction from the others to seeing her like this, but it didn't make it any less awkward. It wasn't like she'd _wanted _to do this, but they were fugitives now, and Natasha's red hair was a very clear identifier to anyone looking for her. A change was necessary to blend in. This was her change.

"What's the matter, Rogers?" She said in a coy voice. "I thought you liked blondes?"

Sam laughed out loud. He'd tried to cover his mouth with the magazine, but it only succeeded in making his laugh echo even louder. Steve felt heat crawl into his cheeks as he sent a dangerous glare down at Sam. When Sam held his hands up in surrender, Steve returned his gaze to Natasha. He cleared his throat in an attempt to chase away his embarrassment.

"This is a… quite the change of pace." He finally said.

Natasha shrugged. "I've been on enough most-wanted lists to know how _not _to stick out like a sore thumb." She grabbed a black jacket that she'd hung over the back of the sofa and slowly slid it on. "You might want to consider how to blend in yourself, Captain America."

She wasn't wrong. Steve wasn't exactly an obscure figure. While his history was, obviously, more widely-known in America, he had to assume that there would be other people around the world that could recognize him, too. If they were going to continue to work and _not _get thrown behind bars, he might need to start thinking about how to obscure his own image.

"Fine," he said, "but I am _not _dying my hair." He raised a brow at Natasha, making sure his point got across. She only grinned at him and turned her attention to the doctor.

"Thank you," she told the woman. "For everything. We owe you."

The doctor set her cup down on the table in front of her and slowly stood up. She walked around the couch, placing herself near the others. "You're good people," she told them. "And you do good things in this world. Documents and politics don't change that. Don't let a few written words change who you are."

They were wise words that Steve knew he wouldn't forget. They hit close to home and rang true in his heart. A lot of things had happened and would continue to happen, but he couldn't let that change who he was or what he stood for. He couldn't bend to the will of a few men in suits who thought they knew how the world worked. They hadn't been in the world, not like Steve had. Not like the others had. They couldn't possibly know what it was like to do what they did, and yet they tried to monitor and regulate it like they were some kind of hall monitors. Steve knew he couldn't let that happen. He knew that he _wouldn't_ let it happen. He was pretty sure that Natasha, Wanda and Sam held similar viewpoints, too.

More thank yous were exchanged, along with handshakes and goodbyes. Coulson was, presumably, asleep in one of the rooms, and they decided it would be best to leave him that way. In the event that his higher-ups (that _weren't _Fury) learned that he'd been in contact with them, they didn't want him to have any more information than he already did. Coulson was a good man, but he might be compelled to tell someone where the four of them were going if he knew. Keeping him in the dark seemed to be the best-case scenario for everyone. So, with that in mind, they gathered up what things they had and headed out into the night.

Steve, chivalrous as he was, carried the small backpack that Natasha had along with his own duffel bag. He walked alongside her while Sam and Wanda followed behind. He glanced over at her a lot, still trying to get used to the drastic change of her hair. It would probably take him a while. He already missed her crimson locks, though he was pretty sure if he said anything even remotely close to that, Natasha would break his arm.

"So, where to next?" He asked instead.

Nat glanced at Steve. She was tired, sore, and would need some more time before she was back to fighting status again. They also needed to put some distance between themselves and the mess they'd caused as BASRAC, but they couldn't forget about Garrett. They'd have to keep tabs on him, one way or another.

"There's a safehouse in London," she finally said. "We can lay low there while we try to figure out our next steps with Garrett."

"As long as it has A/C, I'm good." Sam said from behind them as he wiped some sweat from his brow.

Natasha cast a look over her shoulder at him. "No promises," she said with a grin.

…

The safehouse, as it turned out, was located in Northwest London, in Wembley. It was a small bungalow that was seriously outdated but checked all the boxes when it came to necessities. The faded brick structure was nestled in a part of town that was oddly reminiscent of some of the suburbs Steve had seen back home. Small, shabby houses and flats were sprinkled in among shops and pubs. The streets were narrow, with cars mostly parked alongside sidewalks due to the lack of driveways. A lot of people walked to and from their destinations, showing a substantial mix of demographics. It seemed peaceful enough, though Steve would have preferred something a little more secluded. Natasha pointed out that, that would be just the place that people would look for them, though. No one would expect them to be hiding out in such public places. It was a good point that quieted some of his worry.

"You know about all these places through S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Sam asked as they approached the safehouse.

"Not all of them," Nat answered and left it at that. Sam didn't question her further. He knew better than to try and get more information than she was willing to give.

Natasha opened the front door and let them in to a living room with wood floors and two, large windows. The walls were white and sparsely decorated. The place was furnished with the essentials like couches, chairs, a kitchen table and beds in the three bedrooms. There was a bookshelf with some books in the front room, and a TV that looked about fifteen years old. It was just enough to keep up appearances that it was occupied. What was most surprising about the bungalow was the little patch of fenced-in grass in the back. It added a degree of privacy that was surprising, given the fact that the front of the place jutted up pretty much right to the street.

"Not the worst digs I've ever seen." Sam commented as he let his bag slide to the floor.

"You three can each take a room," Steve said. "I'll take the couch."

"Wanda and I can bunk." Natasha offered. She looked over to Wanda, making sure that was alright with her. Wanda nodded a bit absentmindedly. She was standing in front of the bookshelf, running her fingers along the dusty spines of books and reading their titles. Her mind was brilliant and inquisitive. It was no surprise to Natasha that Wanda would take an interest in the books.

"Read whatever you'd like," she told Wanda. "We can stay here for a few days." She allowed her own bag to rest next to the chair in the living room. "I'll make a supply run."

"Sure you're up for that?" Steve asked.

Natasha perked a brow at him. "Yes, I'm pretty sure I can manage getting groceries. Besides, I'm the only one who knows the area."

"I'll go with you, then." He said, surprising no one.

"Afraid I can't take care of myself?" Natasha asked. It _was _getting dark, after all.

"Hardly." Steve said with a shake of his head. "I just want to make sure you get the kind of cereal I like."

Natasha could pretty clearly see through Steve's thinly-veiled attempt at masking his intentions, but she let it go. She was still trying to be a little more delicate with the fact that he had been really worried about her, and he probably still was. There was no denying that she _had _been a bit reckless in her pursuit of Garrett. If having him accompany her to the store would help ease some of Steve's worries, then the least Natasha could do was go along with it. Sam was already taking a seat on the couch and turning on the TV, and Wanda had plucked a few books from the shelves, so it seemed like they were getting settled.

"Alright," she finally said. "I'll put my things in a room. Then we can go." She scooped her bag up and headed back to one of the bedrooms.

The bed was unmade, but there were sheets, pillows and blankets in the closet. She would handle that later. For now, Natasha removed her jacket and hung it up in the closet as well. She swapped it for a gray zip-up with a hood. Then, she grabbed a roll of cash from her bag and tucked it into the waistband of her pants. As she was stepping out of the bedroom, Steve was stepping out of the room across the hall. Natasha saw him and paused.

"No." She said. "Absolutely not."

"What?" Steve asked, truly confused.

He had grabbed a ball cap from his bag and put it on, pulling the bill a little lower in an attempt to cover his face. That was all fine and well, but the hat had the New York Yankees' logo emblazoned across the front. Natasha reached up and snatched the hat off his head.

"We're supposed to be blending in," she reminded him. "You can't go around advertising that you're _clearly _not from around here."

Steve grinned down at her, despite himself. Something about the exasperated look on her face pulled a slight chuckle from deep within his chest. "Alright then," he said, "what do _you _suggest?"

Wordlessly, Natasha turned around and walked back into her room, Steve's hat still in hand. He followed her, watching with interest as she set the hat down and reached into her bag. She rummaged through it for a few seconds before pulling out a navy blue, hooded sweatshirt. Steve furrowed his brow as she turned around and presented it to him.

"Is that mine?" He asked.

Now it was Natasha who grinned. "Maybe." She tossed the sweater to him. "That just means it should fit, right?"

Steve sighed and shook his head. He was starting to wonder how much Natasha was actually joking when she told him she'd used his toothbrush. He slid out of his jacket and hung it on the doorknob long enough to put the sweatshirt on instead. After he'd tugged it into place, he held his hands out to his sides for appraisal.

"There," he said. "Is that better?"

Natasha tilted her head to the side, observing him in that deeply analytical way that only she did. She liked the sweatshirt. She'd "borrowed" it with every intention of giving it back to him. It brought out the brilliant blue of his eyes.

"Better," she said, tossing the hat back to him. "_That_," she pointed to the baseball cap, "stays in your bag until we're home."

Steve huffed out a quiet laugh. "Yes ma'am." He returned the hat to his bag and met Natasha in the front room. Sam was watching soccer on the tiny television, while Wanda sat curled up in a chair with a book.

"We'll knock twice before we come inside," Steve informed them. "Anybody opens that door without knocking first," he looked between them. "Well, I'm sure you can think of something."

He was sure that Sam had his gun on him, and Wanda's mind was her weapon. Between the two of them, they could handle any uninvited guests. With that in mind, Steve nodded, and Natasha led the way outside. Night had fallen, and some clouds had rolled in with the promise of rain. The streetlights on the sidewalks cast an orange glow on the people that were walking or milling about. A trio of boys across the street were performing tricks on skateboards. A little further down the road two women were pushing strollers. Steve flipped his hood up, stuck his hands in the sweater pockets, and walked next to Natasha.

"So," he said after a few minutes, "how _do _you know about this place? S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Natasha looked over at him. For some reason, Steve ventured to find out things that no one else did. He didn't back down out of intimidation like most others. It was like he had this level of clearance with her that nobody else possessed. Natasha supposed it made sense. They'd been partners and friends for quite some time now. They'd gotten to know each other pretty well, and Steve was closer to her than most everyone else. Still, there were some things that she just didn't care to talk about.

"No," she said. "It's from… before."

Steve nodded and looked forward again. He knew that "before" could've included a pretty broad spectrum of things. He assumed it meant her time in the KGB, though. He knew it wasn't something Nat was proud of. She'd spent all her years with S.H.I.E.L.D. trying to make up for what she did as a KGB agent, only to feel like so much of that progress was undone when they found out about Hydra's infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D. Natasha had been pulled in many different directions in her life. More than most. She was still trying to do good, though; to do the right thing. Thinking about that succeeded only in making Steve feel like an ass all over again for their argument.

"About… yesterday." He spoke up again.

Natasha had hoped this wouldn't come up again, but she'd fully expected it to. They hadn't really been able to finish… whatever the hell it was they'd started when she woke up at Dr. Shadid's place. There was just too much going on, and there had never really been a good moment to circle back to their argument, conversation, whatever it was. Now, Natasha paused on the sidewalk, prompting Steve to do the same. She looked up at him with a thoughtful expression.

"It's fine," she said. "We both made mistakes. Water under the bridge. Besides, I think saving my life kind of makes us square."

Steve knew she said it was okay, but he couldn't let it drop. He owed Natasha an explanation. So, he continued. "With everything that happened with Tony and Bucky and the Accords, people taking sides, the team getting split apart the way it did… I think I just started to doubt things, you know?

"That doesn't excuse me for doubting you, though." He said. His eyes held hers, making sure that she saw the sincerity in his gaze. "You don't have to prove yourself to me or anyone, Natasha. I know where you stand, and I know I can trust you. I just hope you know you can trust me, too."

Natasha pulled her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on it thoughtfully for a moment. She wasn't sure what to say to that. Yes, Steve's doubt had hurt and disappointed her, but did it make her feel like she couldn't trust him? Not a chance. She released her lip and took a deep breath. "I do," she assured him. "Trust you. Honestly…" Her green eyes swiveled to the side for a second before returning to Steve's.

"I trust you more than anyone, Steve."

She spoke those words with quiet sincerity, but there was some hesitation in them, too. Natasha was raised to be autonomous and without attachments. She was told that relationships were weaknesses. They compromised you. You were never supposed to give someone the kind of power that came with trusting them. The second they knew that you did, they would use it against you. They would hurt you and ultimately shatter that trust. It had taken a lot of time and effort, first from Clint, and then others, to show Natasha that those lessons weren't all true. Not all people were like that. Not all people were like her. There was goodness and truth in this world. Steve exemplified that fact like no other.

Knowing what he did about Natasha, Steve knew how important her words were. He felt that importance deep in his chest. There was a sense of relief and a sense of honor at having been trusted like that, by the Black Widow of all people. Natasha had very little reason to trust people. God knows she'd been wronged by them so many times. Yet, she trusted him.

…_.more than anyone._

That created a strange stirring inside of him. Steve felt he owed it to Natasha, and that trust, to be honest with her. About everything. But here? In the middle of the sidewalk on their way to the grocery store? It didn't seem right. So, Steve just nodded and smiled.

"I won't let you down." He told her.

Natasha smiled in return. "I know you won't."

She stood there for a few more seconds. She wasn't quite sure why. Maybe part of her felt like there was something else that Steve wanted to say. She could've sworn she saw it behind his eyes. So much concentrated thought and attention just begging to come out, but he didn't continue, so Natasha didn't push. She nodded and turned to head toward the store once more.

"Nat?" Steve said as he fell into step beside her.

"Hm?" She glanced over at him once more.

"Your hair looks nice."

Natasha smiled.

They walked the rest of the way to the store in silence, though it was a far lighter one than it had been before. Natasha kept her eyes peeled and her head on a swivel all while maintaining a casual air. She was an expert at taking in her surroundings without being noticeable. Steve had his own means of taking things in. His senses were sharp, and he was pretty good at detecting threats. Thankfully, he detected none. They made it to the store without issue. Given the hour, it wasn't too busy. That was good. It was a relatively small establishment that would be virtually impossible to not be seen by other patrons in. Natasha grabbed a small basket and handed it to Steve. Then, she looped her arm through his.

"What are you doing?" He asked, perking a brow down at her.

"Blending in," she answered simply.

Steve didn't know how much linking arms would make them blend in, but he wasn't complaining. He remembered their time in that mall several years ago. Natasha had adopted the same method of "blending" then, too. Talks of honeymoons. Kissing on the escalator. Steve could still remember the softness of her lips and the way her hips felt beneath his hands.

"Let's make this quick." Natasha's words interrupted his thoughts.

Steve cleared his throat and nodded down at her. "Yes, dear." He said with a grin.

They made quick work of grabbing all of the necessities they would need to get by. Food, toiletries, coffee, and some of the not-so-necessary things like candy and some of the cheapest-looking whiskey Steve had ever seen. When Natasha placed it in the basket, he perked a brow at her.

"I'm going to need _something _if I have to share a house with you and Sam for three days." Natasha said with a grin.

"Might as well make it two, then." Steve joked.

There was something surprisingly comforting about a task so simple and mundane as getting groceries. Steve and Natasha operated like two cogs in the same wheel. It was smooth, unspoken but effortless. They didn't need words or questions. It was like that on missions, too. Steve often felt like Natasha was an extension of himself in some ways. The way they fought, the way they moved, it was always so… easy. This was easy, too. Almost easy enough to let his guard down and forget why they were really here. Almost.

While they were checking out at the register, the little bell over the door sounded, announcing the arrival of two youths. They were both male, with beanies pulled low over their brows and thick, puffy coats covering their bodies. Natasha could tell by their body language that they were nervous. They were trying too hard to look cool, and as they stood in front of shelves pretending to peruse the wares, their eyes moved all over the rest of the store. They were counting patrons, looking for cameras, all things that Natasha knew because she'd done similar things countless times in her life. She narrowed her gaze and made a thoughtful sound before looking up at Steve.

"Honey," she said smoothly. He looked down at her curiously. "Can you finish unloading? I forgot to get crackers."

Natasha nodded her head in the direction of one of the aisles, and Steve followed with his eyes. He saw one of the boys shifting around nervously. He was making no attempt to stuff groceries in his over-sized coat. He wasn't here for food. He was here for money. Steve sighed and looked back down to Natasha.

"I'll get them." He told her with a smile.

He gave Natasha's arm a little squeeze before moving away from the register. He took an indirect route, around a display of potato chips and up the far end of the aisle. He came to a stop behind the youth.

"You don't wanna do this." Steve said.

The kid jumped, his hand flying beneath his coat. Steve reacted quickly, reaching forward and wrapping his fingers around his wrist. He squeezed just hard enough to force the beanie-wearing youth to unwrap his fingers from the gun that was hidden beneath the waistband of his jeans.

"That guy's probably got a few hundred in his register." Steve said as he used his other hand to grab the kid's gun. "Nowadays, that'll get you, what? One good night? Maybe two?" He pulled the gun from the kid's jeans and held it down at his side. Metal could be heard bending and crunching beneath his grasp as Steve squeezed the gun in his hand, crumpling it like an empty soda can.

"Hardly seems worth the amount of time you'll serve if someone finds out you and your buddy are knocking off grocery stores."

The youth said nothing. He was too busy staring down at the gun that now looked like little more than scrap metal in Steve's hand. Steve tucked the crumpled weapon into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

"Is your friend packing, too?" He asked, his voice calm but stern.

"N-n-no, mate." The kid said, shaking his head quickly.

"Good, because that blonde up there at the register?" He nodded up toward where Natasha was standing. "I'm willing to bet she's a better shot than your buddy."

Steve released his grip on the kid, sending him stumbling a few steps to the side. "Maybe next time you step into this store it should be to apply for a job. Now get lost."

He didn't have to tell the kid twice. He stumbled, wide-eyed down the aisle and quickly found his friend. He grabbed him by the coat sleeve and pulled him out of the store, glancing over his shoulder at Steve every few seconds. Steve took a deep breath and released it in a heavy sigh, shaking his head a bit. After a few moments, he returned to Natasha at the counter.

"No crackers?" Natasha asked sweetly.

"They didn't have the kind you like." He replied.

With that settled, Natasha paid the cashier. She and Steve gathered their bags and headed out of the store. Outside, there was no sign of the kids.

"You always take us to the nicest places." Steve teased her.

"Hey," Natasha contested. "It's not like I _knew _there were a couple of hoodlums casing the place."

"Y'know… something about the way you say that doesn't have me entirely convinced." Steve said, smiling down at her.

Natasha grinned and shrugged. "I'm just trying to keep the spark alive."

"Oh, there's never a dull moment with you, Romanoff."

Nat chuckled and linked her arm with Steve's once more. He looked down to their entwined limbs and then up at Natasha. She wasn't looking at him, but rather keeping her eyes forward as they walked. Her face looked relaxed; content. Steve wondered if this was part of keeping up appearances and found himself sincerely hoping that it wasn't. If it was, well… he supposed he should make the most of it. He pulled her a little closer.


	7. The Past Comes Back

Staying in a house with three other people was a strange scenario for Natasha. She felt like she was on one of those reality TV shows, where grown adults had to coexist in confined quarters for ratings. Of course, this didn't entail near the amount of drama those shows did, but it was still a bit awkward. Sharing a bed with Wanda was… interesting. The poor woman had worse nightmares than Natasha did. The first night, she'd been so embarrassed over accidentally throwing a lamp against the wall in her sleep that she'd opted to move out to the front room and spend the rest of her evening on the sofa. Even after Wanda left, Natasha hadn't slept great that night. She was too restless over thinking about Garrett, and what his next move might be. She didn't do well with idle time, even though she needed it to heal.

She did feel better, though, having taken some downtime. Those first twenty-four hours were critical in her recovery. Natasha was hardier than most, but she wasn't the super soldier that Steve was. Her bones broke a lot more easily than his. Though, she discovered that Steve hadn't made it out of the explosion unscathed. While walking past his room one day, Natasha caught sight of him through the slightly open door. His back was to the door, and he'd been putting on a clean shirt. It was only a glimpse, but Natasha saw faded bruising down the right side of his back, where he'd impacted the metal container so Natasha didn't have to. The sight of it pulled at her chest, making it tighten painfully in guilt and regret. She knew Steve could handle far more than she could, but it didn't make it any easier to witness. Seeing someone she cared about in pain was not something she'd ever get used to.

Steve seemed to be doing okay, though. He didn't seem to mind the close-quarter living arrangements. There was something oddly comforting about it, really. They were far from normal, but Sam, Wanda, Natasha and himself were a team. They were a single, cohesive unit. They were a family, and he was grateful to have them. Even if Sam watched TV with the volume up entirely too loud, and Natasha put more sugar in her coffee than any person should. He was glad to have them around.

Of course, it wasn't all family dinners and TV watching. They worked, too. Natasha spent a lot of time poring over a variety of information sources on her computer. She was able to hack into some S.H.I.E.L.D. databases and get some clues as to where the men and women responsible for Project Deathlok were held following their arrest. There were no solid locations as of yet, but she had some leads. She also found out that Coulson's transfer request had yet to be granted. That meant they had some time, but it meant Garrett did, too. He would, no doubt, be licking his wounds (not that he really had any) and rallying whatever forces he may have had in his employ.

Aside from information gathering and brainstorming sessions, the four of them also did what they could to stay in shape and primed for the missions ahead. Steve and Sam trained often, utilizing the small backyard as a sparring space. Wanda was usually out there, too, practicing her control over her abilities. Natasha was back into it, as well. She trained with Sam and Steve, getting her body back into prime condition after having taken some time to recover. Most of her stiffness and soreness had subsided, and her cuts and bruises had all healed nicely. She was back to being perfectly capable of wiping the floor with Sam and giving Steve an honest run for his money. She never failed to impress him when it came to her skills.

On their second day at the safehouse, Natasha was sitting out back in a kitchen chair she'd dragged outside. She had her laptop resting atop her thighs as her fingers busily clicked across the keyboard. Out in the small yard, Steve and Sam were throwing and dodging punches and kicks, working up a sweat in the afternoon sun. They looked like opposites of each other, Sam in blue pants and a black compression shirt, and Steve in black pants and a blue compression shirt. Beside Natasha, Wanda was sitting and reading a book, taking a break from her own training.

"C'mon, old man." Sam teased as he wiped some sweat from his brow. "Don't tell me you're losing steam already."

Steve huffed out a breathless chuckle, hands on his hips, and shook his head. "Not a chance. I can do this-"

"All day," Sam finished. "Yeah, yeah. I know." He threw a punch at Steve, which Steve easily leaned away from.

The second punch Steve deflected with a forearm, retaliating with a kick aimed at Sam's right side. Sam grabbed Steve's leg and pinned it between his arm and his side in an attempt to throw Steve off his balance. Steve used his free leg to leg in close, wrapping his arms around Sam and then throwing his body weight forward in a somersault that took Sam down to the grass. He rolled forward and off of Sam then quickly hopped up to his feet and turned around to see his friend laying on his back, breathing heavily and squinting one eye against the sunlight beating down on him.

"One day all those years are gonna catch up to you," Sam huffed.

"Maybe," Steve said, extending a hand down to him. "Not as soon as they catch up to you, though."

"Hah hah." Sam laughed dryly as he grabbed Steve's hand and pulled himself to his feet. "Hilarious." Releasing his grip, he looked over to Natasha. "Romanoff!" He called over to her. "Why don't you come out here and show ol' Cap how to put his money where his mouth is."

Natasha looked up from over the top of her computer screen, one brow perked in interest. Steve was standing with his hands on his hips once more, his heavy breaths causing his chest to strain against the tight confines of his shirt. The sweat on his brow had his blonde hair hanging over a bit, curling ever so slightly at the ends. It was getting longer, as was the growth on his jawline. He looked… ruggedly handsome. Not quite the clean-cut, golden boy everyone was used to. Natasha pulled her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, contemplating. If there was ever a moment she could have the upper hand on Steve, it was after he'd expended some of his energy on Sam.

"Alright," she finally said as she stood up, laptop in hand. "But you have to keep an eye on this for me." She held the computer out for Sam to take as he walked over. "I'm running a facial recognition scan, trying to get a hit on Garrett."

"Sure," Sam said as he took the laptop. "Shouldn't be too hard to identify his ugly mug." He sat down in the chair and grabbed a water bottle that sat beside it, taking a healthy swig. "Give him hell, Widow."

Natasha grinned as she stepped into the "ring". She was wearing a pair of black workout pants that hugged her legs and stopped just below her calves. A loose, pale purple tank top adorned her torso. Normally, she would've taken the time to pull her hair back, but given its recent shortness, she was able to put a small clip in it to effectively keep it away from her face. She stretched a bit as well, pulling her arms across her body one at a time, loosening up her triceps and shoulders. She got low and stretched from side to side, too, warming up her thighs and calves. It didn't take much for her to get limber. She lived in a pretty much constant state of incredible flexibility and agility. Mostly, she just wanted to keep Steve waiting.

Steve knew better than to pull his punches with Natasha. He had learned a long time ago that the only thing "going easy" on her got him was a thorough ass kicking. While she may not have been "superhuman" like Steve, Natasha operated at peak human level in just about every category. Strength, speed, reflexes and agility, she possessed top notch skills all across the board. She had quick, sharp senses and an incredibly cunning mind. She observed her enemies, learning; knowing them sometimes better than they knew themselves. Long story short, she was not one to take lightly. Big things, small packages and all that. So, when she squared up across from him, Steve focused in and got ready.

Natasha made the first move. She came at Steve with a series of quick jabs that put him on the defensive, backing away when he could and blocking when he couldn't. There was a lot of force behind her fists, and they created loud smacks every time they met one of his open palms. He got ready for another series, only to be surprised by a leg sweep that had him jumping backward to avoid. Natasha gave him little time to recover. She delivered a right hook, but Steve grabbed her wrist and averted her arm to the side, away from his chest. Natasha leaped up and wrapped both of her legs around Steve's arm, swinging her whole body downward and forcing him into a frontward somersault that dragged him to the ground, quick and ruthless. The breath left him as his back smacked into solid earth. Natasha was crouched over him, one foot pressed into the earth on his left, and one knee pressed into the ground on his right. She smiled down at him, even as she reared one fist back to deliver a downward punch.

Steve grabbed Natasha by the hips and used his superior strength to roll both their bodies over, switching position so he was on top and it was she who was thumping her back against the ground. There was some surprise in her green eyes, but the smirk on her face either said she was impressed or she'd been expecting this all along. Turns out, it was the latter. Natasha jabbed her pointed fingers into the crease of Steve's arm, forcing his elbow to bend and his upper body to come crashing doward. She rolled out of the way just in time, so his face met dirt instead of her chest. Then, she was performing a quick nip-up to put herself back on her feet. She quickly turned around, grabbed Steve's arm, and bent it behind his back, stretching his pectoral muscle and shoulder in quite an uncomfortable fashion. She placed her knee against his spine to add strength to the hold.

"Sure you can do _this _all day?" She asked from behind him.

Steve didn't answer. Instead, he kicked one foot backward, throwing Natasha off balance. She loosened her hold just enough for Steve to slip out of it. He kept a hold of one of her wrists, twisting it and holding her arm out to the side as he spun himself around to face her once more. Natasha placed her other hand on the ground and pushed herself into a handstand, rotating her body to undo the twist that Steve had put her arm in. When she flipped upright again, they were standing face to face. Steve had her arm pinned down at her side. He looped one leg around and kicked her in the back of her knee, causing it to buckle, and sending her to the ground once more. This time, though, Steve cradled her fall. He slipped a hand behind her head and followed her down, preventing her from hitting the ground too hard. With one hand still holding her arm in place, he placed his knee down on the shoulder of her opposite arm to keep that side pinned as well. She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with adrenaline. There was a mix between exhilaration and frustration in her gaze. Some sweat glistened on her brow, and her chest rose and fell quickly against the thin fabric of her shirt. She smiled up at him.

That's when Steve felt it. Something was pricking him in the wrist. He looked down to see the pointed end of Natasha's silver hair clip pressing right into his pulse point. Had it been a real weapon, and had he been a real enemy, he would've been done for. Steve shook his head, and released a breathless chuckle. He should've known better than to think that he'd had the upper hand. Natasha had him right where she wanted him that whole time.

"Clever." He said as he released his hold on her. "Dirty, but clever."

"I prefer 'dangerously creative'." Natasha replied with a grin.

Steve helped her to her feet, and she brushed some grass from her hair and off her back. The pin was neatly returned to her hair. He watched her move over to one of the water bottles, pick it up and take a long pull from it. When she was finished, she placed the cap back on it and tossed it over to Steve. She lifted the hem of her shirt up enough to wipe her face off, revealing a bit of that scar on her abdomen that had come courtesy of none other than the Winter Soldier. Steve would never not feel bad about that. Part of him assumed responsibility for Bucky. He assumed responsibility for a lot of things, though.

"Perfect timing," Sam said from his seat. "I think we've got something here."

Natasha and Steve joined Sam, standing behind his chair so they could look at the computer screen. Wanda had lowered her book and was leaning over as well. Slightly grainy street camera footage showed Garrett standing outside an alley somewhere in Munich. He had a hood up to obscure most of his face, but his features were too identifiable to miss. Natasha had an uneasy feeling in her gut.

"Ping the IP address of that camera," Nat told Sam. "I want an exact location."

Sam didn't ask questions. He typed in a few commands that yielded good results. "Looks like it was behind a hotel in Denning. The… Azimut Hotel Munich?" He looked up at Natasha, as if expecting to see if that meant anything to her.

It did.

"Shit." Natasha breathed.

Steve looked at her, concern on his face. "What is it?"

_It, _Natasha thought, _is a long story. _She pushed her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face, before sliding her hand to rest on the back of her neck. She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, deflating her lungs. If this was what she thought it was, she knew she owed the others an explanation. It was just… difficult. It involved dredging up some pretty unpleasant things from her past, before her more permanent residency within S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers. She couldn't keep them in the dark, though, because if she was right… it meant Garrett was planning on bringing the fight to them.

"After the Red Room… fell out," Natasha began, "there were some attempts at a successor agency. It didn't go well. Before they went belly up, a corporation called Gynacon moved in. They purchased the biotech from Red Room, and then dispatched soldiers to hunt down any Red Room graduates that were still alive."

"Present company included, I assume?" Sam asked.

Natasha nodded. "After they tried, and failed, to kill me, I did some… asking around. The deal was made in Russia, but their base of operations was in Munich. I tracked them down, found their CEO and…" memories drifted around like ghosts in her mind. Natasha furrowed her brow and looked away, unable to face the gazes of her friends who were all looking at her expectantly.

"I did what needed to be done." She finally said. She didn't think she needed to explain what that meant. When she finally managed to look at them again, she found stoic understanding from Wanda, and concern in the eyes of Sam and Steve. Not so much for what Natasha had done, she hoped, but for what had been done to her. And for where this was all potentially heading.

"Afterwards, Gynacon fell out. Its people who remained went into hiding. But over the years, I heard rumors of other start-ups, trying to pick up the pieces and put something together out of the scraps that Gynacon left. As far as we knew, nothing ever took off, but in this instance, cutting the head off the snake didn't ensure the body died. There could still be others out there, agents that worked for Gynacon."

"People that would have a vested interest in what Garrett is trying to do." Steve surmised.

Natasha nodded once more. "The biotech they used on us was a version of the serum that was used on you," she told him. "If they think they can get their hands on one of us, they might not even need to break the people who worked on Project Deathlok out of prison."

"And now that you don't have the backing of S.H.I.E.L.D., they think you're easy targets." Sam commented. "Or at least… easier than before."

"Garrett is ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. That alone makes him dangerous. Throw in all of the robotic enhancements made to his body, and he's even more of a threat. And the soldiers that Gynacon sent for us?" Natasha shook her head. "They were real sleeper cell types. Highly trained spies and terrorists from all over the globe. The best at what they do."

"But not as good as you." Wanda pointed out. When Natasha looked at her, she gave a small smile. "They could not best you when you were alone. How can they expect to do it now that you have us?" A hint of red swirled around in her brown eyes.

Natasha gave her a sad smile. "If this is about getting their hands on any trace of the serum in our blood, I can't risk them getting their hands on you, too." She didn't even want to think about the things they would do with someone like Wanda.

"You can save the self-sacrifice shit." Sam spoke up. When Steve gave him a look, he rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, yeah, I know. 'Language, Sam.'" He said in his best Cap impression. Then, he returned his voice to normal and continued.

"We aren't splitting up, so you can save your breath. What kind of friends would we be if we left you to handle this alone?"

"This could all just be… coincidence." Steve pointed out, though the sound of his voice made it seem like even he wasn't buying that.

"Garrett could be focusing his efforts on finding out where those prisoners are," Nat said. "But instead, he's in Munich, hanging around the exact same places I found myself in fifteen years ago. I don't think that's a coincidence, Steve."

Their gazes held firm for a few seconds, understanding passing between them. Even if he didn't want to admit it, Steve knew this was cause for concern. If Garrett was trying to kick up old hornets' nests from the past to hunt them down, they had a whole new issue to worry about. The last thing Steve wanted was for any of them to be turned into glorified lab rats so that psychopath could create his own personal army of super soldiers. What's more, they couldn't let more people go through what Natasha went through. Steve had signed up for his science experiment. Natasha hadn't. Neither had Wanda.

"So, what should we do?" Steve asked. "Head to Germany? Try to cut Garrett off before he can make any leeway with this… recruitment effort?"

Natasha shook her head. "We need to be sure before we do anything. I have a contact in Munich. I can put a tail on Garrett; see what he's up to for certain. If it's what we think, then we can… react accordingly."

She excused herself, then, heading inside to make some calls.

Steve released a heavy sigh as he watched her go.

"I second that," Sam said. "This just got a hell of a lot more complicated."

Steve looked down at him, his expression thoughtful. He knew better than to try and persuade Sam to sit this one one. If the roles were reversed, Steve would want to do whatever he could to help Sam. He was sure his friend felt that way now. Still, he couldn't help but to worry about just what they were getting into. Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned his back against the rickety wooden fence behind him and looked down at the ground.

"This isn't just about us." Wanda said from her seat. "If this Garrett man is intent on creating super soldiers, that poses a threat to everyone. It's our duty to prevent such a threat, isn't it?" She canted her head to the side, looking between the two men.

"You went above and beyond to help Pietro and I." Her voice got a bit sad at the mention of her late brother, but Wanda didn't let that stop her. "He died protecting others, because he was a hero. An Avenger. We're still Avengers." She said. "We still protect people." Then, she shrugged one shoulder, as if to say it was just that simple.

There was a moment of contemplative silence between them. Then, Sam gave a little huff. "Damn," he said. "She may give better speeches than you do, Cap."

Steve shook his head, a small smile forming on his face. Sam was right, though. That _was _a compelling speech. Wanda was right, too. This wasn't just about them. It was about the safety of the countless people that would be in danger if Garrett succeeded in his plan. They'd shot down countless dangerous organizations before. They could shoot down this one, too. If it ever came to that. Steve still held on to a bit of naive hope that this was just dumb luck, and Garrett was just in Munich trying to regain his bearings. He didn't want to think about the men and women he might be recruiting, people who had tried to kill Natasha all those years ago. People who would jump at the opportunity to do it again. Only, now they wouldn't just kill her. They would make her their own personal blood bank, a test subject, to get what they wanted. Steve wasn't going to let that happen. Neither would Sam and Wanda. They were a family, and families watched each other's backs.

After waiting a few minutes, Steve decided to head inside. He didn't know if Natasha would still be on her call or not, but he wanted to check in on her and see how she was doing. He wanted to make sure she was okay. Once inside, he followed the sound of her quiet voice, and found her in her bedroom, sitting at the foot of the bed. She glanced up to him, briefly, when he appeared in the doorway, but turned her gaze forward again right after.

"I know, Max," she was saying. "I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important. You don't have to get close. I just need faces."

There was a brief period of silence on Natasha's end. Then, she released a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. "Yes. Danke schon."

Natasha ended the call and let her phone fall into her lap. She took another deep breath and opened her eyes, sliding her gaze over to Steve.

"You okay?" He asked, his brows knitted together in concern.

"Ask me that question in twelve hours," she said dryly. Then, she shrugged. "I'm alright. I just… have to admit, I didn't see this one coming."

"How could you have?" Steve stepped away from the door and into the room. He took a seat next to Nat at the foot of the bed. "You said yourself that things were quiet. You had no way of knowing that this was a card Garrett could play."

"I should have, though." She said with a shrug. "The past is always a card for me. God knows there's enough to choose from. Besides," she looked at him, "it's not like I was really keeping tabs on it these last few years."

Steve nodded his understanding. There had been so much to focus on in the here and now that it hardly left room for anything else. He could relate, in a way, by being blindsided by Bucky's resurfacing. Still, that was nothing to be blamed for. The past was the past for a reason. It was supposed to be left behind so the present could be focused on.

"Holding onto ghosts is no way to live your life." He said. Immediately, he felt like a hypocrite. After all, what did he do if not hold onto ghosts? He carried one around in his pocket almost every day.

Natasha's expression changed ever so slightly, as if she were doubting him or about to call him out on his hypocrisy. Ultimately, though, she said nothing. Steve was just trying to help, and, in a way, he was right. Natasha's past was not a good place to dwell. She'd been fortunate enough to escape it and make a complete turnaround in life. She had a mission, a purpose, in the world, and she had people who meant something to her. That was leaps and bounds more than she'd ever had before. She sighed and looked forward again.

"I'm worried about Wanda," Nat confessed. "If they see what she's capable of, they might not just stop at us."

Steve placed a comforting hand on Natasha's back, rubbing between her shoulder blades a few times. "We'll look out for each other," he assured her. "We always do." When Natasha looked at him, she offered a small smile. Steve offered one in return. After a few moments, he allowed his hand to fall away from her back.

"So," he said, "who's Max?"

Natasha chuckled quietly. She wasn't sure how Steve would feel about her answer. "He's… ex-Stasi."

The Stasi, also known as the Ministry for State Security, was an intelligence and secret police agency that had been a close partner of the KGB, headquartered in East Berlin. It dissolved in 1990, and many of its officials were prosecuted due to the less-than-savory nature of their work. Max was a citizen-turned-informant, whose main task was spying on the population. He'd since gone straight, but he still possessed a specific skill set that came in handy for situations like these.

"He wasn't happy to take my call," Natasha said. "But then again, most people aren't."

"But you think he can help?" Steve asked, his face serious.

Natasha nodded. "Yes. He's going to get visuals on who Garrett is meeting with. Names and faces will help us be sure before we make our next move."

"Do you trust him?"

"I don't really have much of a choice," Natasha said. "But… yes. This is our best option."

Steve trusted that judgement. Natasha was smart. She was a strategist, and she wouldn't do anything that would put the others in unnecessary danger. Speaking of the others, Steve thought it would be smart to get back to them. They needed filled in on the details, and they needed to discuss what their next steps would be. With that in mind, Steve stood up. He turned and looked down at Natasha.

"When you're ready," he told her, "we'll be outside."

"I'm ready now." She replied, wasting no time in standing up.

Steve held her gaze for a second, making sure she was being true to her word. He found determination in her green eyes. It wasn't surprising, but he still couldn't help but be impressed by her. He had never met anyone quite like Natasha Romanoff. After a moment, Steve gave a nod and a smile. Saying nothing, he lead the way back outside. Wanda and Sam were still seated, waiting patiently for their return.

"So?" Sam said when he saw them. "What's the plan?"

Natasha informed them of what she'd just discussed with Steve. She had a contact in Germany that would put eyes on Garrett. They would find out who he was meeting with and where. If any of the information that got back to Natasha was cause for red flags, then they would make their move.

"We should take the fight to him," Natasha said. "Before he has time to bring in more people than he already has. The last thing we need is him bringing a group of assassins to our doorstep."

"This isn't going to be easy." Steve told them. "If Nat's hunch is right, Garrett's going to have an impressive caliber of people on his side. If we go after him, we have to start _and _finish this. No one is safe until Garrett's behind bars. You sure you're up for that?"

"Well," Sam said, "when you put it that way…"

Wanda gave him a look before turning her eyes toward Steve and Natasha. "Yes," she told them with utmost certainty. "We are with you."

"So, what now?" Sam asked.

"Now," Natasha said, "we wait."


	8. Two Steps Back

It was roughly five in the morning when Natasha's phone rang. Thankfully, she was already awake. There wasn't much sleep to be had, as waiting to hear back from Max had created quite the stir of nerves in her. She'd tossed and turned in bed and then had some unfortunate dreams about her past when she finally did manage to fall asleep. As a result, when she woke up around 3:30 AM, she decided to stay up. Maybe Wanda would at least be able to get some sleep without Natasha shaking the mattress every two seconds.

She slid out of bed, put on a warm, green cardigan and headed outside with her computer and her phone. The still, dark; quiet night air was almost eerie. There was scarcely a car heard going down the street. It felt like the whole world was sleeping, but her ringing phone soon reminded her that it was anything but.

"Max," she said quietly upon answering. "What do you have?" She took a breath and tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach.

"Good morning to you, too." The man teased from the other end of the line. "Your target has been spending an ample amount of time a place called 'Lady Angelique's.'" Max informed her. "Looks like it's some kind of fetish studio."

Natasha furrowed her brow in confusion. "So he's… letting off some steam at a brothel?"

Max chuckled. "Hard to tell. We can't exactly get eyes inside the building. I was able to get a photo of him leaving, though. He comes and goes through a back entrance. Looks like the same woman escorts him out every night. Sending you the photo now."

Natasha pulled up her email on her computer and loaded the image. Garrett was seen with a tall woman with ear-length brown hair with deep red frosted tips. She had a slightly muscular build and a strong jawline. Something about her eyes looked very familiar.

"She goes by the name of Lady Dust," Max said. "Their resident, 'Rubber Diva'. Specializes in latex and electricity."

"What a lovely combo." Natasha mused. She pulled up the establishment's website and found a sort of profile page for all of the ladies in its employ. Lady Dust was a dominatrix who liked to enforce pain and perversion. Someone who specialized in hurting people in very specific ways and got paid to do so.

"Looks like I went into the wrong profession." Natasha noted.

"Never too late for a change, Fraulein." Max joked.

"Do you know her real name?" Nat asked.

"Nein," he replied. "Their real names are withheld for privacy purposes."

"Hm," Natasha tapped her finger to her chin. "Shouldn't be too hard to run her through facial recognition. How many times have they met?"

"Two so far."

"Alright," Natasha said. "Keep a tail on him. Let me know if he leaves the district. Thanks, Max."

Natasha ended the call and stared at the leather-clad diva on her computer screen. Her blue eyes were so light they were almost gray. They stared at Natasha, threatening to pull forth a memory that just wouldn't come. Why did she look so damn familiar?

"I have to admit," Steve's tired voice sounded from behind her, "this is… not what I expected to see you looking at on your computer at five in the morning."

Natasha jumped a bit, turning around in her seat quickly and looking at Steve with wide eyes. He stood just outside the door, barefoot, in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. His unkempt hair said he'd just gotten out of bed. Color rushed to her cheeks. "It's not…" she began, but could only huff out a frustrated breath. She furrowed her brow at him and tried again. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep." He said as he walked up to her chair. "Thought I heard you talking, so I thought I'd come check it out. Make sure everything is okay." Now it was he who was furrowing his brow, blue eyes zeroing in on the computer screen in Natasha's lap.

"_Is _everything okay?" He asked, a smirk threatening to form on his face.

Natasha tore her gaze away from him and looked back to the computer. "Garrett has been meeting with this woman at a… local kink studio."

Steve furrowed his brow in confusion. "A what now?"

"Trust me, you're probably better off not knowing. Regardless, I don't think he's there for fun. Something tells me he's not exactly the leisurely type."

Steve pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. "So, what do you think he's doing?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Natasha said as she pulled up the facial recognition software on her computer. "This woman… she seems familiar for some reason."

Steve moved his eyes from the computer to Natasha. He could see dark shadows under her eyes. It seemed like she had been out here for awhile, or at the very least she'd been awake for awhile. Even before they'd all turned in for the night, she had seemed restless. Now, she was staring at the computer with intensity, her eyes straining in the darkness around them. The glow from the computer screen cast a slight blue tint on her face.

"Have you slept?" He asked.

Natasha slid her gaze over to him, confused. "Some," she said. "I mean… I tried." She looked at the computer again. "It didn't work so well."

"You wanna talk about it?"

Again, she glanced at him. Her immediate reaction was to laugh, though she wasn't quite sure why. Steve was being serious; she knew that. She also considered telling him no, because that was her instinct. It was natural for her to just keep things to herself, buried deep and locked away for none the world to see. She had trusted Steve with a lot of things in the past, though, and so far none of that had come back to bite her in the ass. Sighing, Natasha leaned over and set her computer down on the stone floor of the patio for a moment. When she sat up again, she angled her chair a little more towards Steve.

"I've spent… a lot of time trying to wipe my slate clean," she confessed. "It's kind of starting to feel like every step forward I make is followed by two steps back."

"Garrett trying to dig up old ghosts isn't your fault." Steve reminded her.

"No, but…" Natasha shook her head and sighed. "The last thing I wanted was for any of you to be put in danger because of something from _my _past."

"Nat," Steve leaned forward enough to put a hand on her knee. "These things are out of your control."

Her green eyes fell to his hand for a moment. She wanted to cover it with her own hand, but she didn't. She wasn't sure why. "I know," she said. "That's the problem." She lifted her eyes to meet his. "Control was… kind of a big deal in my 'curriculum.'"

Control over herself, her enemies, her environment; every piece on the chessboard. If you controlled all of the variables, then you had all of the cards in your hand, and you could play them however you wanted.

Steve's hand gave her knee a squeeze. "You're not with those people anymore," he said gently. Natasha gave him a small smile, which must have meant he had said _something _right. Using that, he continued.

"We're a team," he told her. "We're in this together, and we'll figure it all out together. You can't worry about the things you can't control."

Realizing his hand had been on her knee for quite some time, Steve decided to remove it. He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly and slid his hand back to his lap, sitting up straight once more. He noticed Natasha rub the spot on her knee where his hand had been, and he wondered if he'd made the right decision in putting it there or pulling it away. He lifted his eyes back to her face, though, not wanting to draw attention to it. He offered her a little smile.

"And as far as that slate goes… it's clean, Natasha. You've done more good for this world than you realize."

"I've also done a lot of bad." She said softly.

"It doesn't have to be a balancing act." Steve replied. "We can't let our pasts compete with our present.

Natasha looked at him, unable to help the small smirk pulling at one corner of her mouth. "Were you always this wise or did that come with age?"

Steve gave her a look.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry. I try to let things go; it's just… difficult when they keep rearing their ugly heads like this."

"Let them serve as reminders of how far you've come," Steve suggested. "You don't have to prove yourself to anyone. We know who you are, Nat."

Another smile pulled at her lips. This one was softer; more genuine. "Yeah," she said. "You do." At least one of them did, anyway.

A chime from the computer told Natasha that facial recognition had found something. She leaned over and picked the device off the ground, setting it in her lap once more. As she pulled up the file, her face fell.

"Son of a bitch," she said. She looked at Steve. "Literally," she told him. "Look at this."

He leaned over to take a look. A file for a man named Evan McMasters had been pulled up. White, English, thirty years old, and the son of the deceased Ian McMasters. He'd grown up being passed around from boarding school to boarding school, and then enlisted in British Special Forces as soon as he turned eighteen. He'd served eight years in Special Air Service, working recon and counter-terrorism in Iraq. His discharge was listed as "medical". Apparently, Evan had gotten some pretty extensive cosmetic surgery without sanction, and found himself out of a job because of it. Seeing his pre-surgery photos, though, it was easy to see why he looked so familiar. Evan had been a spitting image of his old man.

"Okay…" Steve said slowly, not quite connecting the dots. "So Evan is now Lady Dust." He looked at Natasha. "Why is Garrett so interested in her?"

Nat sighed. "Evan's father was the CEO of Gynacon."

"He's the one you…"

Natasha nodded before he could finish his question. She closed the computer, unable to look at the face any longer. "Evan grew up without a father because of me," she said. Her eyes fell to her hands in her lap. Sometimes, she could still see the blood on them. "Seems like a compelling enough reason to join Garrett's cause."

"His father was a monster," Steve told her. "Having him around might not have made Evan's life any better." He angled his chair to better face Natasha and then reached over to gently curl a finger beneath her chin. He lifted her head, turning her face towards him.

"Natasha," he said, "this isn't your fault."

He held her gaze without flinching, trying to convey just how true his words were. He needed her to know that he believed them, so maybe she would believe them for herself. Her green eyes danced slowly between his, and Steve could see the little glimmer of sadness behind them. It was hard to catch in the dim, gray light of morning, but it was there. Sometimes, he could feel it emanating off of her like a furnace. Natasha's heart was bigger than she would ever realize.

"The sun will be up soon." She said, not acknowledging his previous statement. It had Steve sighing, his hand dropping away from her chin. Before it could go too far, though, Natasha captured it by wrapping her fingers around his wrist. She held it on top of the arm of her chair for a moment, her eyes on his.

"Maybe... we can watch the sunrise together?" She asked quietly.

Steve was caught off-guard by her request. It stunned him into stillness and silence. He watched a small, almost hopeful smile tug at the corners of Natasha's full lips, and something inside of him melted a little. He took a deep breath, chest inflating, and released it slowly out his nose. Then, he nodded and smiled a little, himself.

"Yeah," he said. "I think that'd be nice." Steve turned his head and looked over his shoulder. The roof behind him wasn't very high, but it would provide a better vantage than the fence-blocked view from the yard.

"Come on," he said as he stood up. He grabbed his chair and carried it over toward the house. Natasha followed, watching as he set the chair down and then proceeded to stand on it. With one, simple jump, Steve hopped up into the air and onto the roof a few feet above. Natasha stood on the ground with her hands on her hips, her head tilted to the side in both thought and quiet observance.

"Not all of us have three foot verticals." She commented.

Regardless, she climbed up into the chair. Then, she jumped, placing herself high enough to grab onto the edge of the roof and swing herself up. It took a little longer than Steve's single jump, but she moved with a quiet and fluid grace that the soldier could never hope to achieve. They walked quietly across the roof, moving to the east-facing side of the house, where they sat down next to each other. Steve let his legs dangle over the edge of the roof, while Natasha pulled her knees to her chest. Color was just starting to bleed over the horizon as the sun began to peek up into view. The slow breeze that drifted by held onto the lingering coolness of the night. Natasha pulled her cardigan a little more tightly around her slender figure.

Steve watched her for a moment, thinking about everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks. He thought about Peggy, and he thought about what Sam told him. He focused on the way he felt, now, in this very moment. Steve focused on the way he cared for Natasha. He waited for that familiar feeling of guilt to creep in alongside it; that sense that he was dishonoring Peggy in some way. It didn't come, though. There was only stillness and peace as he watched the first few rays of the morning sun cast its warm light on Natasha's face. Turning his face forward once more, Steve slowly reached out and wrapped an arm around Natasha's shoulders.

It was like having a blanket wrapped around her. An added layer of warmth immediately settled itself over Natasha's shoulders, her whole body really, and had her relaxing a bit more. It pulled a slow, quiet yawn from her lips and had her head falling over to rest against Steve's shoulder. Her eyelids felt warm and heavy. She swore she could've closed them and fallen asleep just sitting there. She didn't, though, because the sunrise was spilling beautiful oranges and pinks into the blue sky, and it really was something to see. Natasha had seen a lot of sunrises in a lot of different places all over the world, but how many of them had been enjoyed alongside someone she really, truly cared for? This was nice. It was _really _nice.

As the sky woke up, so did the city. More and more people and cars were soon seen milling about the street. The noise of everyday life slowly began filtering up to where Steve and Natasha sat. Below them, sounds could be heard inside the house that said Sam and Wanda were stirring. The smell of coffee wafted up from an open window in the kitchen, soon followed by the intoxicating smell of sizzling sausage. The morning news could be heard from the outdated television in the living room. The volume was too loud. Sam must have been watching.

"We should probably head inside." Natasha said quietly. Her voice sounded a bit reluctant. For some reason, that made Steve smile.

"Yeah," he agreed, even though he was just as reluctant.

After a few more seconds, he allowed his arm to fall away from Nat's shoulders. She, in turn, slowly lifted her head from his. She looked at him, giving him a small, appreciative smile before standing up. She faced the day, stretching her arms above her head and releasing another yawn. The wind rustled through her cardigan, causing it to ripple behind her a bit like a cape. It tossed her short blonde hair away from her face, waking her up a bit more. Satisfied, she lowered her arms and then extended one hand down to Steve. He grabbed it and pulled himself to his feet. They walked back to the back end of the house, where they hopped down to ground level once more. Natasha collected her laptop and followed Steve inside.

"Good morning," Wanda greeted them from the kitchen.

Sam wandered in from the living room. "Were you on the _roof?"_ He asked them, raising a brow in suspicion.

"Hm… I don't know." Nat said as she set her laptop down on the kitchen table. "Maybe Santa's come early this year."

"What it's too _early _for is your sarcasm, Romanoff." Sam said. He went to pour himself a cup of coffee. He watched Natasha wake up her computer and saw the case file on the screen. "I take it you found something?"

Natasha took a deep breath. As she exhaled, she could feel the slow, warm; sleepy tendrils of her morning spent with Steve slowly falling away. They were being replaced by the almost-cold awareness that came with focusing back on the mission. There was no room for both, it would seem. She cast one last look at Steve, reluctantly watching the way the hard focus slid back into place on his handsome features. It was time. He knew it, too. Sighing, Natasha returned her attention to the computer screen. As Sam and Wanda fell into place behind her, she caught them up to speed.

"I don't think we can consider this coincidence any longer." Natasha said when she had finished.

"Not that we ever did," Sam pointed out.

"So, what should we do?" Wanda asked. She had a towel draped over her shoulder, and she was anxiously rolling some fraying threads between her fingers.

"I think we need to find Garrett," Nat said. "We need to take the fight to him before he can finish doing… whatever the hell it is he's trying to do."

Steve agreed. "The longer he's on the streets, the bigger threat he poses. We know enough about what he wants to know that he's a danger to the public. He needs to be stopped, along with anyone who's stupid enough to work with him."

"So…" Sam said, "we go to Munich, knock down this sex dungeon, and make it home in time for dinner. Sounds perfectly normal."

Natasha shook her head. "We have to get Garrett someplace secluded. We can't risk innocent people getting hurt."

"What do you suggest?" Sam asked.

Natasha turned in her seat to look at them, specifically Steve. He wasn't going to like this one. "I can have Max leave a false leak. Tip Garrett off that I know he's been looking into my past, and I'm not happy about it. We'll let him think I'm coming to settle some scores."

"You want to use yourself as bait?" Steve asked. Natasha was right. He wasn't a fan. "Nat, we don't even know how many people he has on his payroll. He could have a whole squadron for all we know."

"Which is why you won't be far," she said. "I just need to enter the city alone. That's all he needs to see. If you three come in after, you can make up that distance pretty easily."

Sam folded his arms across his chest, taking a step back from the table. He straightened his back a bit and looked at Steve. "This may be our best play, Cap." He said. "If we want Garrett _and _want to avoid letting the whole world know where we are, this is the way to do it."

"We'll be smart," Natasha assured him. "We'll be careful." She'd already had her lesson in recklessness. She wasn't planning on repeating it anytime soon.

Steve sighed and looked at Wanda. "What do you think about all this?" He asked. Sometimes, Sam and Natasha were like two kids asking for permission to shave the dog, and Wanda was the only sensible one.

"I think it is a good plan," she said. "Letting menaces go unchecked has never worked out in our favor. Garrett is a menace. We must check him."

After several long moments, Steve finally nodded. "Alright," he said, making no attempt to hide the reluctance in his voice. "We go tonight."

Natasha smiled. "I'll get us flights into the city." She turned back to her computer and began making arrangements.

Steve turned and plucked Sam's coffee cup right out of his hand, taking a sip as he walked away. "Thanks, Sam."

"Hey!" Sam protested. "That's… that's not cool, man." He looked to Wanda, as if for some sort of backup, but she had already returned to the kitchen to finish breakfast. Sighing, Sam walked back over to the coffee pot. As he filled himself another cup, he looked over to Natasha.

"I suppose you want one of these, too?" He asked.

Natasha gave him a sweet smile that, given the look on his face, he wasn't buying. "If it's not too much trouble."

Sam rolled his eyes but filled another cup for her. He brought it over and set it down on the table next to her computer. "Your highness," he said dryly as he set the cup down.

"Thanks, Sam." Nat said. "I'll be sure to book you a seat in first class."

He mumbled something about her being "so full of shit it was turning her eyes brown" as he walked back out to the living room. Natasha chuckled quietly to herself and continued her work. She got herself an eight o'clock flight and managed to get Sam, Steve and Wanda one that was just a half hour later on a different airline. There were eight less flight time minutes, though, so it would give them about a twenty-minute window to get into the city after Natasha did. It seemed like a good enough time. Enough to make it look like she was alone, but not so much that it made the others uneasy. She meant what she said when she told them they would be careful on this one. She had no intentions of going in, guns blazing and getting herself killed. They needed this win, and Natasha needed whatever loose ends were still out there with Gynacon to be tied up. For good this time.


	9. Trouble in Munich

Steve stood outside the small airport, a baseball cap on his head and his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. It wasn't his New York hat. Natasha had made sure of that before they'd left the house. She'd made a special trip down to the store to get him something a little more "local". She'd done the same thing for Sam. Still, he couldn't help but feel like they all looked like tourists, painfully out of place. Natasha had been teaching Wanda how to blend in with her surroundings and how to keep her awareness up without being obvious. Wanda seemed to be taking well to those lessons, but Steve and Sam were as stiff as ever. Straight spines, shoulders back; military types, no matter how you looked at them. Sam liked to think he practiced a casual air, but Steve could see through that facade pretty easily. They were all on high alert.

They parted ways with Natasha. Steve watched her walk into the airport while he, Sam and Wanda stayed behind at the car they would be leaving in overnight parking. Natasha was a suitable blend of business and casual, in a pair of black pants, a green cargo jacket and a black tank top underneath. Unfortunately, she'd had to leave behind her gear. There was no real way to get it through airport security. The same went for Sam. Natasha assured them that her contact in Munich would have some replacements for them. Steve highly doubted the guy would have a pair of wings laying around, though. Sam would just have to operate on the ground like the rest of them for this one.

"So," Wanda said as she slid a bag over her shoulder, "are you going to tell her?"

The sudden question had Steve pulling his eyes away from the airport and looking at her questioningly. There was a sense of knowing on her face. Steve shot an accusatory glance at Sam.

"Don't look at me!" Sam said. "I didn't say anything."

An amused smile spread across Wanda's face. "He didn't have to," she said.

Sam chuckled at that. "Seems like everyone knows you've got a thing for Romanoff, _except _for Romanoff."

"It's not a _thing," _Steve said. He huffed out a sigh and shook his head. He wasn't sure _what _it was, but it felt like so much more than a "thing". They didn't need to be getting into this now, though. Maybe not ever.

"Well, whatever it is," Sam said, "it's painful to watch. You should at least ask her out to dinner or something."

"We don't exactly live lives that are conducive to dating, Sam." Steve reminded him.

"They can be," Wanda pointed out. "If you want them to be." She gave Steve another smile. "After this, when we return… just think about it."

She let it drop after that. Thankfully, Sam did, too. That didn't mean Steve stopped thinking about it, though. They needed to eat, right? And there were probably plenty of places near the hideout that they could go. How would Natasha react, though? That was the most worrisome part. Steve half-expected her to look at him like he was crazy, but then he thought about that morning… Sitting on the roof, watching the sunrise with her. They hadn't said a word, but something about it just seemed… right. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't care at least a little bit, right?

_This is what you get for not going out on dates, Rogers. _He thought to himself. He was woefully unprepared for pretty much anything that didn't have to do with a mission. Maybe he could work on changing that. But first… they had to handle Garrett. He was one more roadblock in the way of things going back to normal, or whatever semblance of normal they could return to. As long as he was out there, digging up old skeletons from Natasha's past and trying to move forward with his insane agenda, Garrett would remain the priority. Steve was sure that Nat understood that. If she didn't, she wouldn't have gotten on a plane, by herself, to fly to Munich and march right into the lion's den.

Before long, it was time for the rest of them to board their plane. They were wheels up without incident, and it was a short flight over to Munich. Steve had opted to sit with Wanda in an attempt to keep her comfortable on the ride and to also avoid any further "advice" from Sam. Wanda was still a bit nervous around crowds and flying metal containers. Thankfully, she seemed to be doing well. She sat quietly, reading one of the books she'd brought from the house. She told him that the literature helped to drown out all of the noise and energy around her. She seemed calm; content. That was good.

"So…" Steve said about halfway through the flight, "you really think dinner would work? Think we could do something… normal like that?"

Wanda lowered her book and looked over at Steve, a small smile on her face. "I think," she said quietly, "when two people care for each other, the circumstances surrounding it don't much matter. Besides," she turned her gaze back down to her book, "_normal_ is a relative term."

She went back to reading, her lips still curled in a smile. Steve smirked and chuckled to himself before turning his attention to the window. After awhile, the lights of the city came into view below them. The plane began to circle into its descent. Steve wondered if Natasha was already hitting the streets. They wouldn't be able to open their comms until they were on the ground, too. This had been discussed beforehand, but it still made him a bit on edge. They always had an open line of communication on missions. The silence made him nervous. This whole thing made him nervous.

When the plane had safely reached its gate, Steve and the others got off. The airport they'd flown into was small; so it didn't take them long to navigate their way through it and out to the busy streets. As soon as they were outside, he opened up his comm feed.

"Romanoff," his deep voice sounded a bit staticky through the ear pieces. "Do you copy?"

There were a few seconds of silence; then: "Welcome to Munich, Captain." Her voice sounded like silk and honey. Steve looked to Sam and Wanda, who were walking beside him.

"You guys getting that?" He asked them.

"Loud and clear," Sam said.

Wanda nodded.

"There's a gray Volvo waiting for you in the east parking lot," Nat told them. "Entry code is 8525. Keys are inside. Along with a few other things."

"What about you?" Wanda asked.

Natasha grinned from the seat of her sleek, black street bike. It roared to life beneath her, a sound that was clearly identified through the earpieces of the others. She revved the engine a few times, though, just for good measure, all while desperately wishing she could see Steve's face in that exact moment.

"I think I'll manage." She said. Then, she slid a black helmet into place over her head and peeled away.

There was something incredibly liberating about speeding through the streets of Munich; zig-zagging her way through traffic. The last time she'd been on a motorcycle, she'd had Steve's shield attached to the front of it. Natasha didn't have those kind of security measures this time around, but she wasn't completely defenseless. A pair of of Beretta 92's were holstered at her thighs, and a few electromagnetic pulse disks were clipped safely to her belt. Max had really outdone himself.

While Natasha zoomed off toward her destination, Steve and the others found the vehicle that was waiting for them. It was a shiny SUV that, upon entering, revealed itself to be outfitted with all the bells and whistles. In addition to a satellite guided navigation system, 360 camera view, and thick, tinted windows, there was also a duffel bag in the back that contained some things that had Sam ooh'ing and aww'ing like a kid in a candy store. Steve decided to take the wheel so Sam could play with his new toys. Natasha's location was constantly displayed on a map on the center console screen, courtesy of the GPS tracking device outfitted to her bike. Steve watched her dot head southeast.

Unfortunately, the SUV didn't navigate the streets quite as easily as Natasha's bike undoubtedly did. Traffic was congested, especially around the airport. It let up gradually as they made their way further out, but Steve was worried about the amount of distance that had formed between them and Natasha. He had to keep reminding himself that she knew what she was doing and that she would be careful. The only problem was, he doubted Garrett and his people would play by the same rules.

"How's it coming, Nat?" He asked at one point.

"About ten minutes out," she said. Her helmet muffled some of the sounds of the streetbike and the streets it was zooming through. "I'm heading for the hotel first. Max let it leak that we know where Garrett's staying."

"Think he'll leave a trail?" Sam asked.

"No," Natasha replied. "I think he'll try to get the jump on me. Cut me off before I get there.

"Think that will work?" Steve asked, gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter.

"I'll be cutting onto the side streets in a few minutes." She said. "We'll find out soon enough."

Steve looked at the map. Natasha was at least five kilometers ahead of them. Too much space, as far as Steve was concerned. Too much time and opportunity for things to go wrong. It was time to make up some distance.

_I hope they're lenient with their traffic laws._ Steve thought as he ran a red light.

….

The area that Garrett was staying in was far from the nice, flashy part of downtown Munich. There were brothels and hostels on just about every corner, it seemed. Odorous steam rose up from manhole covers on the streets, creating clouds that clogged the air like exhaust fumes. Natasha was thankful for her helmet as she drove her bike through them, slower than she'd been navigating the main streets. She kept her eyes peeled, but it was a bit difficult to see through the darkness. She was expecting some sort of road block or obstacle put into place by Garrett, to either stall her or steer her in a different direction. It's what she would've done to get her prey where she wanted them. So far, though, there was nothing.

As if on cue, a boxy delivery truck came speeding down a narrow cross street. It skidded to a noisy halt in Natasha's direct path, forcing her to slam on the breaks. The bike lifted up onto its front tire, back end suspended in the air, as it struggled to come to a noisy stop of its own. Unable to keep it from ramming into the truck, Natasha was forced to jump off of it, vaulting herself backwards out of the seat and leaving the bike to careen into the side of the truck. She tore her helmet off just in time to see two men hastily spilling out of the driver and passenger seats of the vehicle.

She threw the helmet across the hood at the driver, and then sprinted toward the passenger. Before he could get out of the truck completely, she sent a flying knee into the door, slamming it closed on his leg. She gripped the handle and pulled it open, and the man fell out of the vehicle and onto the ground, gripping his leg and yelling in pain. Natasha delivered a downward strike across his face that snapped his head to the side and knocked him out cold. By this time, the driver had recovered, and was pulling a gun from his hip. He opened fire on her, but Natasha dropped down and used the vehicle as cover. She controlled her breathing, forcing her heart and her breath to be quiet so she could hear the man's feet as he took steps around the front of the vehicle.

Before she could strike, another truck pulled into another cross street at the other end of the road, leaving Natasha boxed in from both sides. Natasha turned and slid onto the ground, rolling underneath the first vehicle as more men got out of the second. Popping up on the opposite side of the box truck, she got behind the gunman and wrapped an arm around his throat. She pulled one of her own guns out with her opposite hand.

"Drop the gun," she growled. He didn't listen. She told him again, this time in German. This time, he obeyed. The gun hit the ground, and Natasha kicked it away, sending it clattering noisily across the pavement.

She tugged the man with her as she walked, forcing him to walk around the front of the vehicle and to the side facing the other end of the alley, where his friends were standing with their own weapons raised. Her green eyes peered through the smog-filled darkness. There were just two other men there. Plain looking. They were even in civilian clothes.

"Nat?" Steve's voice sounded in her ear. "Nat, what's going on?"

"I'm looking for Garrett…" she said. Her eyes roamed around the rest of the alley, up to the rooftops and into every dark shadow she could find. There was no one else there. Just Natasha and this… B-squad at best.

"He's not here…" she said as the realization hit her. Then, she spoke up again, her voice a bit panicked. "Steve, don't follow me. Don't-"

But before she could finish, there was a loud, high-pitched screeching in her ear that forced her to grab the ear piece and hastily pull it out. She threw it on the ground, cursing as she did so.

From the other end, all Steve could hear was static. "Nat?" He called to her. There was no response. "Natasha!" Still no answer. "Damnit!"

He pressed the gas pedal to the floor.

"Cap," Sam called from the back. "We've got company. Two cars on our tail. Shit, make that three."

Steve glanced in the rearview mirror and saw headlights. Three vehicles were speeding after them. "I'm opening the hatch," he told Sam. "Keep them off our-"

"Look out!" Wanda shouted.

Steve looked forward, but it was too late. A truck had pulled out in front of them. Steve tried to hit the breaks, but they were too close. The SUV slammed into the side of the truck in a noisy, painful explosion of crunching metal and shattering glass. The airbags deployed, smacking Steve in the face and snapping his head backwards. He saw stars and an explosion of white behind his eyes; then he felt the warm sensation of blood cascading down his face. His ears rang noisily, and the hissing of the airbags sounded like angry snakes in his head. As the ringing subsided, he was vaguely aware of the sound of quick pops coming from outside the vehicle. Guns. Someone was shooting at them.

Steve looked to the side and saw Wanda slumped in her seat. There was a cut across her forehead, seeping blood slowly down the side of her face. Behind him, Sam was groaning in the backseat.

"Sam, you alright?" Steve called back to him.

"Great." Sam groaned.

"Get Wanda," he told him.

Then, he was tearing off his seatbelt and using brute strength to force open the crumpled door of his driver side. He tore it completely off its hinges, using it as a shield as he slowly stepped out of the vehicle and into the fray. The bullets pinged noisily against the metal, and Steve was fairly sure that it was armor-plated. He peeked up through the broken window to try and see how many people they were up against, here. So far, he counted four. Two gunmen toward the left, and two on the right. They were splitting his focus. That was smart. It looked like Garrett had updated his staff since Bahrain.

….

Natasha swore and fired two shots into each of the men across the alley. The first hit a shoulder, forcing them to lower their weapons, and the second hit a leg, forcing them to the ground. She pistol-whipped the man she'd been holding at gunpoint, knocking him out. She released him and started running for the far end of the alley. One of the men she'd shot was on one knee, reaching for his weapon. Natasha lifted her own knee into his face and sent him to the ground for good this time. She ignored the other, vaulting herself up onto the hood of the truck he'd arrived in and then onto the roof. She ran and jumped onto the roof of a nearby building.

The buildings were mostly connected, running down the length of the streets. Any that weren't only had a foot or so gap between them that was easy to clear. Natasha ran and jumped, heading back in the direction she came and keeping her eyes peeled. She heard screeching tires, breaking glass, and gunfire. She could see a thin plume of smoke coiling into the air, no doubt from one of the vehicles she had heard getting crunched. Natasha kicked it into gear, holstering her gun so she could run faster. She needed to get to the others. She needed to help them.

They were just within eyesight when something collided into her.

Natasha was hit from the side, smacking against the rough, gravelly surface of the flat roof and sent rolling several feet after impact. Her shoulder crashed painfully with the roof, and the rough concrete tore a hole in her pants, skinning her knee. She came to a stop on her back, breathing heavily and trying to make sense of what had just happened, when a black figure appeared in the air above her. Acting on instinct, Natasha rolled out of the way, just in time to miss a pair of brass knuckles, crackling with some kind of electricity. They slammed into the ground beside her, leaving an indent that would've caved her head in like a rotten melon. She quickly pushed herself to her knees, pulling her gun as she did so. It was promptly kicked out of her hand by a thick, leather boot. Another fist was sent her way. This one connected, slamming into her jaw and knocking her head to the side. Pain exploded in her head, and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

"So, this is the Black Widow?" A woman's deep, German-accented voice said from above her.

Natasha snapped her eyes upward, glaring. "You must be the dust lady," she said. "Or do you prefer Evan?"

Lady Dust growled and booted Natasha in the chest, sending her rolling backward along the roof. She came to a stop just a few feet from the edge. She stood up just in time to deflect a right hook. She caught Dust's wrist, twisted it painfully up and to the side, and kicked her in her exposed ribs. The leather-clad woman's body went a bit slack, just enough for Natasha to slide those metal knuckles off her fingers and kick them away. That was only one, though. Lady Dust had another. She _did _specialize in electrocution, after all.

A painful burst of electricity shot through Nat's chest as Lady Dust delivered a hard punch to her sternum. It forced Natasha to release her and stumble backward, her muscles twitching as they tried to overcome the painful sensation coursing through them.

"My father was obsessed with you." Dust said as she advanced towards Natasha. "The prize fish he just could not catch."

Natasha deflected a punch with her forearms, and then leaned away from an electrically-charged follow-up. She dropped to the ground, kicked her leg out and swept Dust's legs out from under her. The woman fell onto her back with a painful thud, the air knocking out of her lungs and leaving her coughing. Natasha rolled forward until she came to a stop, perched above her. She pressed a knee into the inner bend of one of her arms, and then punched Dust in the face.

"Your father was a criminal," Natasha said. "That doesn't mean you have to be one, too."

Dust smiled up at her, her teeth painted red with blood. "And what were you, then? A saint?" Her smile quickly faded, and she spit a glob of blood up at Natasha. "_Hundin!" _She shouted.

Lady Dust delivered an open palm strike to Natasha's chest that sent her falling backward. She hit the roof with force that knocked the air out of her lungs. Dust was already getting up and coming for her again. She was quick, but Natasha was quicker. She pulled her gun and fired a shot in the woman's kneecap. All that leather might have been great to avoid getting shocked, but it didn't do a damn thing against bullets. Dust let out a scream and went down, gripping at her knee.

"_Hundin!" _She shouted again. "Bitch! You will die for this! Your _friends _will die!"

Natasha kicked Dust in the chest, sending her flying backwards, off the roof and into the dumpster below. The lid slammed shut on her. Natasha watched for a moment before looking forward again. Steve and the others were just on the other side of the next building. She took off running once more.

...

Steve took his chances and heaved the car door at the men on his left. It collided into them like an oversized frisbee, knocking them both to the ground. This opened him up to the two on the right, though. He moved to quickly back down behind the cover of the car, but a bullet caught him in the shoulder, grazing the skin and leaving a burning cut in its wake. More bullets whizzed by overhead or ricocheted noisily off the hood of the SUV. As he took cover, Steve saw more people filing out of the back of the large truck they'd collided with. They were all dressed in black tactical gear with thick body plating and helmets. They were heading straight for him, and he was fresh out of car doors to throw.

That didn't mean everyone else was, though.

The loud noise of screeching metal sounded as a red light encircled one side of the truck they collided with and yanked the door right off. It flew through the air and knocked into some of the people that had just made it out of the vehicle. Gunfire on the other side of the SUV sounded, and Steve could see Sam taking well-placed shots against the two gunmen up and to the right that Steve had been forced to ignore.

"Cap, we got this!" He heard Sam yell. "Go find Nat!"

Before he could go anywhere, however, someone else joined the fray. From behind them, a large figure jumped down from the roof, landing on the ground with a heavy boom that cracked the pavement. Steve could see the bulky, metallic figure of Garrett standing a few yards away from him. The burnt flesh of his face was twisted in some version of a mangled smile. This was all going just how he'd planned it. _So much for keeping things quiet,_ Steve thought.

"Captain America," Garrett said, flexing his metallic fingers. "Leaving already?"

Steve clenched his fingers into fists at his sides. They weren't metallic, but he was willing to bet they'd hurt just as bad. "If you're thinking about giving some bad guy speech," he said, "you can just save it. I'm not in the mood."

Garrett grinned. "No speeches, Steve. Just facts. Like this one: The Black Widow is no more."

Steve knew he was bluffing. There was no doubt in his mind that Natasha was alive. This was just what people like Garrett did. They aimed low, and they tried to press buttons. Steve knew that, but… well, it didn't make him any less angry. If Garrett wanted him to pummel the snot out of him, Steve didn't see any reason not to. He stalked forward, picking up steam as he crossed the alley. Garrett did the same, and soon they were meeting like two bulls, slamming into each other and exchanging blows. Steve ducked under a right hook and drove his own fist up into Garrett's ribcage. It felt like punching a wall. Garrett didn't seem phased by it, either, as he grabbed Steve by the back of the neck and tossed him away like he was nothing. Steve staggered a few steps, but kept his footing. He had to keep hammering away at Garrett and find a weak spot. The face seemed like his only bet at this point.

Garrett sent a punch toward Steve's face, but Steve caught it and pulled the man close into a cross-body suplex. Garrett slammed against the ground, but booted Steve away before he could get close to do any further damage. He was slow to get to his feet, but Steve guessed it was due to the amount of metal worked into his body. He must have been heavy. Steve thought he could use that. Wear the man down; use his own body against him. The ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent came at Steve once more, throwing uppercuts and haymakers that would've done a lot of damage if they connected. Steve stayed on the defensive, though, keeping Garrett just far enough away that his punches didn't land. When he had an opportunity, he would sprinkle in a face or body shot of his own, but for the most part, he just played opossum.

It was going well, until Garrett stopped in the middle of the alley and pressed a finger to his ear. "In position," he said. "Take it."

Steve looked past Garrett's shoulder, realizing how much distance he had placed between himself and the others. He could hear gunfire and see the red wisps of Wanda's power as she and Sam fought against who knew how many people. Steve didn't know how many Garrett had brought with him, and he'd allowed himself to become too far separated from them to know, now. He refocused his gaze on Garrett. The man was smiling again.

"You think you're the only one who does your research, Captain?"

There was an eruption, and a thick cloud of smoke exploded into being down the alley, obscuring everything from view. Steve could see a huge flash of red from within it. Then, there were occasional pops of gunfire. Then, nothing. While he was distracted, Garrett rushed him once more. He tackled into Steve, slamming him against a wall and then closing one, metallic hand around his throat. He lifted Steve six inches off the ground, holding him suspended in the air as if he weighed nothing.

"You and the Widow are old news," he said. "Think of all the things we could accomplish with someone like your Scarlet Witch on our team."

Garrett squeezed tighter, threatening to crush Steve's windpipe beneath his grasp.

Something flew through the air, then. It stuck to Garrett's metal shoulder with a quiet _tink, _and then emitted a strong electrical pulse. Garrett's arm locked up, forcing him to release his grip on Steve and stagger a few steps backwards. Steve was back on his own two feet once more, coughing and gasping as air returned to his lungs. He saw a slender figure drop down from the roof and land right on top of Garrett's shoulders.

Natasha stuck two more disks on the sides of Garrett's head. She flipped off of his shoulders just in time to see more pulses surge through him. This time, his whole body locked up. He twitched violently for a few seconds before falling to the ground. The EMP disks died down, and Garrett was left to lay there, unconscious. Natasha released a heavy breath and lifted her green eyes to Steve. She looked at him, and the worry was evident on her face.

"Wanda…" Steve rasped. "They're after Wanda."

The two of them turned and ran back down the alley. The cloud of smoke had expanded even further. It was thick, burning both their eyes and lungs as they tried to see and breathe through it. Natasha coughed and waved her hand in front of her face in a feeble attempt to clear a path. There were some shouts and the sounds of exchanged blows nearby.

"Sam!" Steve yelled. "Wanda!"

At first, there was no response. Then, as the noise died down, Sam's voice sounded nearby. "Cap!" He yelled. "Over here!"

Steve and Natasha made their way through the smoke to see Sam standing over a handful of unconscious bodies. He had a split lip and a swelling bruise under his right eye, and there was some blood on his shirt from unknown sources. He stood, hands on his hips, chest rising and falling heavily in an attempt to catch his breath.

"Where's Wanda?" Natasha asked.

Sam only shook his head.

Without warning, Natasha ran for the SUV. She climbed up onto the hood, then the roof, and jumped back up to the roof of a nearby building. She jogged this way and that, turning circles and peering through the clearing smoke. As the wind picked up, it cleared out the rest of the area, and Natasha was soon able to see the warzone that had been left behind. Vehicles that looked like crumpled sardine cans; guns and bodies littering the concrete. It was hard to tell what had actually happened here, but one thing was for certain.

Wanda was gone.


	10. All for One

Natasha hopped down from the roof, her booted feet landing noisily on the hood of the truck. Another jump took her back down to ground level, where Sam and Steve were assessing the situation.

"Any sight of her?" Steve asked. He had some dried blood on his face, and some not-so-dry blood glistening on his shoulder.

"No," Nat said with great reluctance. She looked at Sam. "Did you see anything? Hear anything?"

Sam shook his head again. "I don't know," he admitted. "I mean… the smoke hit us like a wall. There was a pretty bright flash of red, and then just… nothing." He looked at the ground and cursed under his breath. "I might have heard some tires squeal up ahead, but with everything going on, it was hard to gauge a direction."

He looked between them, a deep frown on his face. "I'm sorry, guys."

"It's not your fault," Steve assured him.

"No," Natasha agreed. "But I know whose fault it is."

She turned and stalked back through the mess and chaos to where Garrett had been left. "Son of a bitch..." She cursed when she got there. Garrett was gone, too.

"Damn…" Sam said from behind her. He and Steve had followed her over and were just as discouraged to find nothing but empty space. "Now what?"

"I had a little run-in with 'Lady Dust'," Natasha said. "Left her in a dumpster a few buildings back."

Steve recognized the look in Natasha's eye. It was cold, angry; vengeful. But there were sirens in the distance, and they would be here soon. As much as he hated to admit it, Steve knew they wouldn't be able to stick around. They had to get out of here, try to regroup, and figure out where Wanda was taken.

"We have to go." He said, his voice firm.

Natasha looked at him as if he were crazy. "I just need five minutes." She said. Her expression darkened a bit. "Actually, just give me two."

Steve shook his head. "And risk still being here when the police show up? Nat, we can't. You know we can't."

He was right, of course. She _knew _that they needed to get out of here, but that didn't mean she wanted to. It sure as hell didn't mean she had to be happy about it. She stood, hands on her hips, taking a few, frustrated breaths. Natasha considered being stubborn, obstinately insisting that she go back for Lady Dust, but she could see fatigue and a hint of desperation in Steve's eyes. He needed her to go along with this. Sam did, too. He was hurting, Natasha could tell. Not that she wasn't hurting, too. Her anger was just helping her forget some of that pain for now.

"Fine," she finally said. "Are any of these cars still driveable?"

Garrett had made off with the vehicle that rolled up to the back of the alley. The Volvo was out of commission, as was the truck it had run into. There was another, black SUV that some of Garrett's people had piled out of, though, that seemed to be good to go. They found it with the doors open and the engine still running. Perhaps its occupants had planned on making a speedy getaway. Their bodies littered across the pavement was a pretty clear indicator that, that wasn't going to happen. They weren't going anywhere anytime soon. Except maybe to jail.

Nat got into the driver's seat while Steve slid into the passenger seat beside her, and Sam practically fell into the backseat. He was wincing and holding his rib.

"You alright?" Steve asked, looking over his shoulder with a concerned expression on his face.

"I've sure as hell been better," Sam grumbled. "Just a cracked rib. I'll be fine."

Natasha peeled away. She wasn't sure where she was going; she just knew they couldn't be here. She gripped the steering wheel so tightly her fingers ached. With her adrenaline slowly wearing off, she became all-too-aware of the pounding her head. Her jaw ached, and there was still the coppery tinge of blood in her mouth. The muscles in her right arm felt tense and strange. A tingling sensation traveled from her fingers, all the way up to her shoulder and partially into her chest. She'd taken one too many hits from Dust's electrically-charged knuckles, and it was starting to show. She just had to make sure to keep a tight grip on the wheel and hope that no muscle spasms hit her. The last thing they needed was to wreck yet another vehicle. She was already missing her motorbike.

"What happened back there?" Steve asked her.

She glanced over at him. "I should ask you the same thing." She said, then sighed. "Some of Garrett's goons tried to box me in. Lady Dust got the jump on me while I was on my way back to you."

Steve didn't have to guess how that went. Natasha had made it back. Lady Dust didn't. He frowned, brows furrowing as his blue eyes looked out the window. "They were never after you," he mused.

Natasha didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Steve was right, and everyone in the car knew it. She decided to focus, instead, on what Sam had told her.

"You said you think they might've gone this way?" She asked, pointing eastward.

"I think," Sam said. "Maybe." He didn't sound sure, but it was the only thing they had to go off of.

Natasha made a sharp turn, tires squealing as she cut down a narrow side street. There weren't any signs to go off of or trails to follow. She glanced over at Steve.

"Are you able to hear anything from her comm?" She asked. She knew it was a long shot, but she had to ask, and her own earpiece was fried.

Steve shook his head, but he tried reaching out to Wanda, anyway. "Wanda," he said. "Wanda, come in." After a few moments of radio silence, he looked at Natasha again, a frown on his face.

"Nothing," he said.

"They must have knocked her out," said Sam. "There's no way they would've been able to take her otherwise."

The unspoken question of "What now?" hung over all their heads. They couldn't just give up and go home, but how could they pursue when they had next to no information? They didn't know what kind of vehicle Wanda had been taken in, if she'd been taken in one at all. They didn't know where they were taking her or even which way they were going. Natasha wracked her brain, trying to think about what _she _would do if she were one of Garrett's people.

"They probably have some sort of rendezvous point." She said, thinking aloud. "A place to meet back up with Garrett. He wouldn't just have them leave without him. He's too invested in this."

Nat reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved her phone. "Damnit," she cursed. The screen was cracked to hell. A small slice was left on her thumb when she tried to swipe across the splintered glass to unlock the screen. She tossed the phone into the center console and stuck her bleeding thumb in her mouth for a second.

"Here," Steve said upon seeing her plight. "Mine's good."

He handed her the outdated flip phone he refused to get rid of, and Natasha found herself thankful for his old-fashioned ways. The flip phone might not have been as practical as hers, but it was apparently more durable. She took it, punched in Max's number, and hoped that he would pick up. He didn't. Natasha left him a pretty heated message, though, and within a minute, he was calling back.

"I thought this made us even." Max said.

"It would've," Natasha replied, "if Garrett hadn't gotten away and made off with one of our own."

"I helped you all I could," Max said.

"Well, you're going to help some more." Nat said, her voice low and dangerous. "Because otherwise there is going to be a lot of noise in town that I will make sure points back to you."

Steve looked over at her, surprised by her change in demeanor. He saw coldness in her eyes and anger in the way she firmly clenched her jaw, as if she were looking Max right in the face that very moment. She was threatening to blackmail a man who had done a lot for them. Steve furrowed his brow and took a breath, about to speak.

But then Sam reached up from the backseat and placed a hand on his shoulder. Steve looked back at him and saw his friend shaking his head.

"It's Wanda, man." Sam reminded him.

Steve released a heavy sigh. He knew what Wanda meant to Natasha. He knew what she meant to all of them. There was a good chance that Natasha was just talking tough to get Max's help on this, because she knew what was at stake. And if she wasn't… well, Steve supposed he understood. Whether or not she was serious about blackmailing this guy wasn't really important right now. Finding Wanda was. He nodded and looked forward again, opting not to say anything.

The phone call ended a few minutes later.

"Max is going to keep an eye on local surveillance," she told them. "If Wanda or Garrett turn up, he'll let us know." She looked at Steve; then glanced back at Sam. They both looked in rough shape. Natasha was sure she did, too. In the meantime, they needed to take care of themselves.

She found a store a few miles away that carried enough pharmacy and first-aid items to get them by for now. The car was parked in a back alley, and Sam and Steve got out to stretch their legs and breathe a bit while Natasha got supplies. While she was hardly looking her best, she didn't look nearly as scuffed up as the other two. She was sure to get less looks. That was the hope, anyway. By the time she was walking back to the alley, no wailing sirens were approaching their location, so she thought that her plan had panned out well enough for the time being.

Bandages, ice packs, braces, gauze and painkillers were all splayed out across the hood of the vehicle. Everyone just sort of took what they needed. Natasha had managed to acquire a small needle and thread kit, and she approached Steve with it. He was standing against the brick wall of a building, head tilted toward the sky. He looked worried. Natasha didn't assume it was for his own safety.

"Let me see your shoulder," she told him.

"It just grazed me." He said.

She stood there, saying nothing but giving him a look that said she didn't care if it was just a paper cut. She still wanted to see it. Sighing, Steve removed his jacket and then rolled up the sleeve of the shirt he wore beneath it. There was a red gash in the meaty flesh of his shoulder, a few inches long. It was slowly trickling blood down his arm. Natasha opened a gauze pad and used it to wipe up some of the blood. Her fingers trembled.

"You okay?" Steve asked.

"Mm," Natasha replied without looking at him. "Dust had some… electric gauntlets. She got a few hits in before I could disarm her."

"I'll just put a bandage on," Steve told her. "It's really not that-"

"Just shut up and let me do this." Natasha said. This time, she did look at him.

The self-perceived failure over Wanda's kidnapping was evident in her eyes. Her green hues glistened with disappointment in herself. She was worried and helpless. She couldn't do anything for Wanda right now. She could, at least, stitch up Steve's arm. Seeing that, he understood and gave a nod.

"Alright," he finally said. "Just don't get too creative with that needle."

Natasha pursed her lips and perked a brow at him, but she kept her comments to herself. She gave Steve no warning before she issued the first prick of the needle. To his credit, he barely even winced. There was a quiet puff of air out his nose, but other than that, he was quiet. He stood perfectly still while Natasha sewed his flesh back together. Despite her trembling fingers, she stitched him up with expert precision. She'd done this plenty of times before. So had he. Steve paid careful attention to Natasha, noting the bruise forming on her jaw. He watched her slender fingers become red at the nails, painted by his blood. He watched the concentration on her face and the frustration when she tried to blow her hair out of her eyes only to have it fall right back into place.

"Here," Steve said quietly. He reached over with his opposite hand and gently moved aside a few strands of blonde hair, tucking them behind her ear. He noticed that her skin felt a bit cool. He wondered if she was cold.

"Thanks," she murmured, her green eyes glancing up at him only momentarily. She returned to her work, and had him sewn up a minute or so later. She placed a bandage over the stitches in the hopes of keeping them clean, dry, and untorn. She knew it was probably unlikely that any of those things would happen, though.

"How's your nose?" She asked. "Does it need set?"

Steve shook his head. "It's okay," he told her. "It was the airbag, of all things." He huffed out a single, humorless chuckle.

"Guess you're not so tough after all," Natasha teased, but her voice lacked its usual sarcastic fervor. She was just going through the motions at this point, it seemed.

"We're going to find her, Nat." Steve said.

She lifted her eyes to his, and this time, she held her gaze there. "I know." She said. There was no other option.

"I'm going to check on Sam." Natasha said. Then, she gathered up her supplies and walked back toward the vehicle.

Sam was leaning against the hood, holding an ice pack to his face. He had a hell of a shiner under his eye. His other arm was laced around his stomach, hand pressing into the ribs on the opposite side. Nat knew there wasn't much that could be done for a cracked rib. They could tape him up, but injuries like that needed rest, and they were far from done, here. Natasha would still do it, but no matter what they did, it was still going to hurt like hell the second he made a move again. Unfortunately, there was no avoiding that. Sam seemed to know as much, too. He was just as adamant, after all, about getting Wanda back. He held himself responsible for her being taken in the first place.

"I should've stayed closer to her," he told Natasha as she wrapped up his ribs.

"Wanda's strong," Natasha said. "And she's a fighter."

"Right…" Sam said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. "I just hope those assholes know what they're doing, because if they don't…"

His words trailed off. Natasha had an idea where his mind was going. Wanda's powers were very strongly linked to emotion. If she got upset, things could get pretty catastrophic. They had seen that in full force before, namely in Sokovia. If she woke up in a room full of hostiles, and they didn't take measures to dampen her abilities… well, the bastards were in for a world of hurt. Natasha didn't pity them, but she knew that Wanda's powers could come with collateral damage. If she lost control, she could take out a whole block with one psychic blast. She would never forgive herself for that. Neither would the rest of the world.

"We should keep moving," Steve said as he rejoined them. He'd done a quick scope of the area to make sure they weren't followed. At the moment, things looked clear, but there was no guarantee that they would stay that way.

"We need to avoid the police, but we shouldn't stray too far. If they keep Wanda some place close, we'll want to be able to get there quickly." He said.

It wasn't difficult for him to fall back into that leadership role. Leading came naturally to Steve, and sometimes it served as a coping mechanism. When he felt like he was down and out and all the odds were stacked against him, sometimes the only thing for him to do was to buck up and lead the pack anyway. He knew that morale wasn't exactly high at the moment. Wanda was one of their own, and they all felt like they'd failed her in some way by allowing her to be taken by Garrett's people. They couldn't wallow in that, though. They wouldn't be doing Wanda any favors by moping about and dwelling over what they did wrong. The best thing for them, and for Wanda, was to keep moving.

Natasha downed a few aspirin and tossed the pill bottle back into the bag with the other supplies. "We need to keep looking," she told the others. "I don't want to just sit around and hope that Max calls. We need to find a trail."

"Perhaps I can be of assistance." A voice said.

The figure belonging to that voice slowly materialized, passing out of a wall, through the SUV, and out the other side like a ghost. His red skin was dark in the dim lighting, and the yellow cape he wore billowed gently behind him as he settled softly down to the ground. The yellow stone in his head emitted a gentle glow.

"Jeeze!" Sam exclaimed.

"Vision?" Natasha could hardly believe her eyes. "What… what are you doing here?"

The artificial-intelligence-made-flesh, now fully solidified, greeted them with a small smile. "I am remiss to admit that I have been keeping tabs on Wanda." He told them.

"What kind of tabs?" Steve asked with some suspicion. Vision had, after all, sided with the Accords.

"Wanda's powers can be very unstable," Vision said. "They create certain… signals that show up on my radar from time to time. I have learned to gauge their severity in relation to Wanda's distress. The last signal to go out was…"

"Very distressed?" Natasha guessed.

Vision nodded, a worried expression on his face. "Afterwards, there was nothing. That was what troubled me most. I… feared the worst."

That statement caused a trickle of fear to travel down Natasha's spine. What if they were wrong in assuming that Garrett would need Wanda alive? What if…

"What about now?" Steve's firm voice broke into her thoughts before they could get too carried away.

"Wanda is unconscious," Vision said. A wave of relief washed over Natasha. "I can still detect ripples of her power, subdued as it is."

"Can you follow it?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Vision replied, "but we must hurry. They are moving quickly, and I fear she will not remain unconscious much longer."

"Great." Natasha was already heading for the car. "You lead the way."

"There is one more thing," Vision said. Natasha paused, turning to look at him. He had another smile on his face. "I brought some things I thought might prove beneficial."

Vision reached his hand to the side. The others watched as it disappeared, all the way up to his elbow, as if he were reaching into some invisible box. When he slowly pulled his hand back into view, it wasn't empty. One by one, he plucked things out of thin air. Natasha's batons and gauntlets, Sam's Falcon gear; Steve's body armor, somehow Vision was able to bring it all with him. Steve watched in quiet awe as Vision handed everyone their things. He took his gear in hand, looking down at it as if expecting it to disappear in a puff of smoke like some sort of magic trick.

"How the hell…" Sam's words trailed.

"Unfortunately the QuinJet was a bit beyond my capabilities," Vision said.

Natasha lifted her gaze from the batons in her hand and smiled. "We'll let it slide," she told him. "Just this once."

"I am detecting sarcasm," he said.

The trio made quick work of donning their respective gear. Sam slid his Falcon gear over his shoulders, buckling harnesses and pulling straps tightly to affix the thrusters to his back. He slid his protective glasses down into place over his eyes. He would be taking to the skies with Vision, it would seem. Natasha slipped her hands into her gauntlets, surprised by how comforted she was to have them nestled tightly around her wrists once more. She affixed her batons to her back in their typically criss-crossed fashion. Steve slid into the heavy protective body armor, opting to just put it on over his shirt and toss his jacket into the backseat. He definitely could've used it before. Garrett packed quite a punch. Literally.

"Sam, follow Vision but keep an eye out for law enforcement." Steve said as he climbed back into the SUV.

"I have jammed their communication signals and created false leads heading west," Vision informed them. "This should provide us ample time to find Wanda and make our exit."

Natasha slid into the driver's seat and brought the engine back to life. Without further hesitation, Vision leaped into the air and started heading east. His yellow cape billowed behind him and served as a perfect means to keep him in her sights. Sam flew a bit higher, staying on Vision's tail but also keeping a wider view on things. With Natasha's earpiece still fried, she had to rely on Steve to relay any communications that came in.

"How long of a trip are we looking at here, Vision?" Steve asked. The AI didn't need any earpieces to communicate with them.

"Approximately eight minutes," he replied. "I will alter the traffic signals to ensure we meet no red lights."

Steve relayed the information to Natasha.

"I forgot how convenient it is to have a walking computer on our team," Natasha commented.

She stayed quiet after that and just concentrated on following Vision. He was heading southeast. Towards the Isar River, Natasha noticed. If Garrett's team had a boat waiting for them, they could take the river south and be into the mountains in no time. It would be easy to lose them in that unforgiving terrain. Natasha was determined to not let that happen. She pressed the gas pedal down to the floor.

"Oh no…" Vision said.

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"I fear she is waking up."

A few minutes later, the SUV skidded around another corner, emerging onto a service road that lead towards a small wharf. The wharf was gated off, thick iron chains keeping the fence closed at the entryway. Natasha didn't hesitate in ramming the vehicle right through the fence, sending sparks flying as the metal clashed with the front of the vehicle. She brought it to a squealing halt a few yards later. Thankfully for Steve's nose, no airbags deployed this time. The two of them got out of the vehicle. Natasha pulled the batons from her back. Sounds of a struggle could be heard up ahead.

She and Steve started jogging for the source, but Vision came to a sudden land in front of them before they could get too far.

"What are you doing?" Natasha asked.

"It is not safe." He said. "Her power is growing. Becoming unstable. It would be best if you stayed back."

"No way in hell." Natasha said as she brushed past him.

"Nat, wait." Steve said as he went after her. "Maybe we should listen to him."

"We have to help her." Natasha replied. She started jogging.

They came to the docks. Four men were grabbing a struggling Wanda, pulling her out of a vehicle and dragging her towards a boat at the end of the pier. She fought against them, her slender figure no match for their combined strength. Her steps looked a bit sloppy, like she was coming out of a fog. They must have drugged her.

Sam hovered overhead, guns drawn. "They're too close," he said. "I don't have a shot."

"LET ME GO!" Wanda's scream echoed across the water.

Then, a sudden burst of red energy erupted from her. It shot out in every direction, like a bomb creating a huge blast radius. The dome grew, knocking back everything unfortunate enough to be caught inside of it. Two men crashed into the side of the vehicle, which then went crashing off the dock and into the water. Another was sent off the other side of the dock into the water. The blast didn't stop there, though. It kept growing, pushing outward and upward. Sam swore as he kicked his thrusters into gear and sent himself higher into the air to avoid the push of energy.

On the ground, Steve and Natasha came to a skidding halt and watched as the power made its way toward them.

"Go!" Steve said. "Run!"

Acting on instinct, they both turned and ran. The force was quicker, though. It hit them in the back, tossing them forward and sending them careening into a stack of wooden boxes near a small building. The wood splintered under their weight, crashing beneath them. Natasha rolled onto her side as Steve did the same next to her. He gripped his shoulder, a wince on his face as he looked towards the end of the dock. Wanda's power was now rippling like angry red tendrils all around her. It created a current that tossed her hair and jacket around, and threw anything in its path like a rag doll. The river water sloshed angrily against the dock, churning and foaming.

"We have to stop her," Natasha said over the noise. "Before she crushes this place like a tin can!"

She started to move, but Steve grabbed her arm, holding her in place. She looked at him, her brow furrowed in frustration and anger.

"What are you-"

"Look!" He said, pointing with his free hand.

Natasha followed the path and saw Vision, slowly descending down into the red chaos. He was semi-transparent, so the force of Wanda's power wasn't affecting him. There wasn't so much as a ripple in his yellow cape. It was clear by the look on Wanda's face and her rigid form that she wasn't in control. She was at her most dangerous, and yet Vision seemed perfectly calm. Nat found herself gripping Steve's arm, not feeling quite so calm herself.

"I hope he knows what he's doing…" she said.

They watched Vision settle onto the dock in front of Wanda and slowly make his way towards her. He was fully formed, now, but he walked against the current of her energy with steady ease. He came to a stop before her, placing his hands on both sides of her face. It was impossible to hear what he was saying, if he was saying anything at all, but Steve could see Wanda's gaze slowly lift up to meet Vision's. At first, there was only anger on her face. Then, like a rope being cut, all of the tension suddenly dropped out of her. Her eyes lost their red tint, and the swirling power around her suddenly dropped. It hit the ground and splashed outward in one last push of energy that knocked into things and pushed them aside. Then, it was done. The waters began to calm, and the deafening noise that had been all around them was no more.

Wanda's knees buckled, and she sank.

Vision was there to grab her, though. He scooped her up into his arms to keep her from hitting the ground, holding her limp form carefully. Steve and Natasha got to their feet and made their way over. Concern was etched into Natasha's features as she came to a stop before them. She reached out and placed a gentle hand on Wanda's cheek.

"Is she okay?" She asked, her voice tight.

"She has simply depleted her energy," Vision said, lifting his gaze to Natasha's. "She will be alright after she has rested."

Sam landed a few feet away from them. "We've got company on the way." He said as he approached.

It wasn't a surprise. With a demonstration like that, it was a surprise Wanda's powers hadn't been spotted from space. Natasha looked at the boat, which had surprisingly remained docked through all of that.

"We can take that." She said. "Come on."

As she started to make her way towards the watercraft, she noticed that not everyone was moving. Pausing, she turned to see Vision still standing where he was with Wanda in his arms.

"What are you doing?" She asked. "Let's go."

Vision looked a bit sad as he shook his head. "She needs proper rest. Proper care." He said. "Time to recover and to regain control in a stable environment."

"Vision," Steve said, keeping his voice calm, "you can't take her back. They'll just throw her right back into prison."

The AI shook his head. "She would not be the only one," he said. "I… did not ask for permission to come here."

Steve and Natasha exchanged looks.

"Please," Vision said. "I just want what is best for her. Can you… trust me?"

That was easier said than done for Natasha. Steve knew that. It was written all over her face. She wanted Wanda to remain with them, but they had failed to keep her safe. Vision was the one who had been able to not only find her, but to bring her out of whatever chaotic state she'd thrown herself into. If she had a chance with anyone, it was him. Steve placed a hand on Natasha's shoulder.

"We trust you." He told Vision. "Get her someplace safe." Then, he looked to Natasha. "Come on," he said gently. "We have to go."

Natasha remained rooted in place for a few seconds. She stared at Vision long and hard, as if she would be able to see right into his head if she looked hard enough. Of course, that wasn't her specialty. Even if it was, she had no idea what it would look like in there. She could read expressions, though, and if he was anything, Vision was earnest. He looked sincere as he gave a little nod to Natasha and then slowly lifted himself into the air. Nat tilted her head back, watching him ascend before he zoomed off into the sky. Her chest tightened painfully over the fear of not making the right choice, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

"Nat…" Steve's voice broke into her thoughts.

She nodded and jogged the rest of the way to the boat. They untied it from the dock and hopped inside. After a few attempts, they managed to get the motor running.

"We should head north," she told them. The mountains would provide better cover, but they wouldn't have any hope of getting out of Munich if they didn't stick close to civilization.

"I'll scout ahead," Sam announced. Then, he took to the skies.

The boat churned through the water, speeding away from the dock and heading upriver. Steve cast a glance over his shoulder at the chaos that had been left on the wharf. There had been no sighting of Garrett. Steve had to wonder if he'd been close, or if he'd been there at all. For now, it seemed they'd dodged a bullet, but they would never truly be out of the woods until Garrett was behind bars. Sighing, he faced forward again. He stood at the front of the boat next to Natasha. The wind whipped her hair away from her face, revealing the full depth of her scowl. She didn't like this. Steve couldn't blame her. He didn't like it either, but he knew it was Wanda's best chance at recovering. Sighing, he reached over to give Natasha's hand a squeeze.

She interlaced her fingers with his and didn't let go.


	11. Truth

Three very long days later, they were back in London. That first night, they took the Isar River north to Freising, Bavaria. From there, it'd been off to Frankfurt, then Belgium; then London. Sam opted to stay in Brussels with an old friend from his military days. He trusted the guy, so Steve and Natasha had to trust his judgement on that. By that time, they didn't have a whole lot of gas in the tank to argue even if they wanted to. It had been a tiresome and grueling process to make their way from point to point undetected, and all they wanted to do was get to a place they could recoup safely. Garrett and his people had given them far more of a run for their money than anyone really anticipated.

That left Steve and Natasha to make the last leg of their trip. They returned to the safehouse under the cover of night. It had been left undetected and undisturbed in their absence. It was safe, and yet it felt oddly cold and hollow without the presence of Wanda and Sam. While he knew it was in Wanda's best interest to stay with Vision, Steve still wished that she would've been able to stay with the team. Not that they were really much of a team at the moment, especially with Sam gone for a few days. Steve would be lying if he said it didn't sting a little bit that Sam chose to stay in Brussels, but he understood. They'd been through a lot, and Sam needed to decompress. They all did.

How much decompressing would actually be done was a bit of a mystery, though. Natasha was still worried, wound tight over the fear for Wanda's safety and the fact that Garrett was still out there. He'd suffered a major loss, but he couldn't be ruled down and out until he was successfully apprehended. There was no telling what his next step would be after this. Would he try to make another attempt at Wanda? Would he set his sights on Steve or Natasha? Or would he scrap all of that and focus on the scientists who had worked on Project Deathlok? It was impossible to say, but none of the outcomes would be good ones.

After doing a thorough scope of the place to make sure it was, indeed, unbothered Steve went into the bedroom, where he took great comfort in finally being able to peel out of the heavy tactical gear he'd been wearing for days. It felt like a huge weight lifted off his shoulders as he took the gear off and let it rest on the foot of his bed. He peeled out of the t-shirt he wore beneath it and just let it fall to the floor. There was a small mirror in the room that he stood in front of for a moment, observing himself. His hair had gotten a bit longer, and his beard was continuing to fill out. He looked rugged; weathered. He looked… old. And for the first time, he was starting to feel it.

There was a gentle knock at the door. Steve turned his head to see Natasha slowly peeking inside. "Yeah?" He said.

She opened the door fully and stepped inside. Her eyes took in the sight of him. The lean, toned muscle of his torso was marred by some bruising on his ribs, and the bullet graze on his shoulder was still evident. The latter was the reason Natasha had knocked in the first place. They'd had a long several days, and she wanted to make sure that he was okay. Natasha often forgot that Steve was a super soldier who could handle more than she ever possibly could. To her, he was just a man. A man she cared about and was concerned over the well-being of.

"I… wanted to check on your shoulder," she said, sounding more unsure of herself than she perhaps ever did.

Steve glanced down at the graze. His stitches had torn when he was thrown around the docks in Munich, but Natasha had gotten the wound closed back up again in Frankfurt. Since then, it stayed that way. After a moment of inspection, Steve allowed his gaze to slide back up to meet Natasha's. She had approached him to take a look at his shoulder, but now she was looking up. Her green eyes appeared darker than usual in the dim lighting. Steve offered her a small smile.

"I should survive," he told her. "Looks like you'll have to put up with me a little while longer."

"Great," Natasha grinned, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was beginning to think I'm scaring everybody off."

Steve frowned, his brows pinching together a bit. "Sam will be back," he said. "And Wanda… well, I think staying with Vision will be good. It's not permanent, Nat."

She held his gaze, so much thought hidden behind her eyes that she did not let out. Her face remained relatively neutral, but when she spoke a simple "I know", it didn't sound too convincing. After a moment, she turned to take her leave.

"Hey…" Steve reached out to gently capture her hand. "What is it?"

Natasha slowly turned to face him once more, but she didn't say anything.

"Nat…" he said, some sadness in his voice. "Talk to me."

It was virtually impossible to turn away from that. Even though the right thing to do seemed like just walking away and keeping her problems to herself, Natasha couldn't bring herself to do it. She knew it was unwise to dump her thoughts and feelings on others. That's what she was taught, anyway, but this was Steve. He was, perhaps, closer to her than anyone else, and she trusted him. She could see that he wanted to help. She didn't know if he could, but she knew thought she should at least give him the opportunity to try. And who knew, at the very least, she might actually feel a little better talking about things. She looked down for a moment, as if weighing her options. There was a moment when it seemed like she might change her mind, but when she looked up at him again, she knew that she couldn't. She didn't _want _to.

"I was alone for… such a long time," she said quietly, as if she was afraid her voice would shatter the fragile fabric of the moment around them. "And then, being a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers Initiative, I found myself surrounded by all of these… incredible people."

A small smile formed on her face, but it slowly shifted to become something a bit sad. "Now… I feel like I'm losing them all, one-by-one. I'm… kind of starting to remember why I never let myself get close to anyone in the first place."

That statement struck a strange chord of fear into Steve's heart. In that instant, he worried that all of the progress Natasha had made over the years, all of the relationships she had built, all of it was coming undone. He imagined her becoming distant and mysterious again, and undoing everything that had helped her grow into such an amazing woman. Frowning, he placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him fully so he could really look at her.

"Nat… you can't think like that."

"It's not necessarily a bad thing," she was quick to continue. She was feigning aloofness; already trying to put that mask back on only seconds after dropping it down and allowing herself to be real and vulnerable. "I'm not exactly beneficial to the lives of others."

"Natasha," Steve said, a bit more sternly this time, "you're wrong. About…" he furrowed his brow for a second, "...well, all of that."

She pursed her lips and perked a questioning brow at him. It wasn't often someone told Natasha she was wrong.

"People are stronger just for knowing you," Steve continued. "And you're stronger for knowing them. You've done a lot of good. Helped a lot of people. You can't think that doesn't mean anything."

"I've hurt a lot of people, too." She countered. "Used people. And that's _still _coming back to hurt me and those I care about."

"Is that what you're doing now?" Steve asked.

"What?" Natasha scanned his blue eyes, trying to find clarification in his gaze. What she found was a hint of something that made her feel suddenly warm and unsure.

"Are you using us?" Steve asked. "Are you using me?"

"No." She replied immediately, offended that he would even ask. "Of course not. But I-"

"You have to stop blaming yourself for the past," he said. "You made mistakes. We all have. But some of those things weren't your fault. Some of them were out of your control."

Natasha didn't say anything, but Steve could see the way the muscle in her jaw twitched. He could see the look in her eyes, that glimpse of panic seconds before a deer ran away, or before a lioness attacked. He'd struck a chord, and rather than walk away from it, he decided to poke it a little more. It was stupid and incredibly dangerous, but he couldn't let it go. He was peeling back layers, breaking through walls and getting a glimpse inside. It felt so rare; once he had a taste of it, he found he wanted more. Even more than that, he wanted Natasha to see, too. He wanted her to _know _just exactly how he felt_. _It was long overdue.

"Nat, you _are _a good person. You're…" His eyebrows slanted a bit, and Natasha thought that his face looked a little sad. "You're worth so much more than you think."

The look in his eyes delivered an unexpected lance to Natasha's heart. It pierced her chest, and goddamn did it hurt. Her lashes fluttered a few times as she fought to maintain perfect composure, perfect control over her every move and mannerism. To not let Steve or anyone else see the real feelings that were hidden underneath. For so long, it'd been as easy as breathing, but lately… Lately it felt so cold. Separating herself from him did nothing but create an undeniable absence that she felt in her very core. She felt alone, and she didn't want to feel alone anymore. She'd had more than her fair share of that already. Yet, even as she thought that, her survival instinct and her stubborn pride had her shrugging one shoulder and huffing a breath of air out her nose.

"Yeah, well… that might not be saying much," she said. _Never let them know how they affect you._ Her instructors used to tell her.

Steve pressed his lips together in a firm line. He seemed a bit frustrated. The point he was trying to get across just wasn't resonating. There was so much more that he could say about Natasha and all of the wonderful things he thought about her. Part of him felt a bit nervous about it, though. He didn't quite understand where all the hesitation came from. Steve and Natasha had talked about a lot of things. They communicated, they confided; they trusted each other. They'd worked so well on every other level. Partners, friends… why not more? What was he waiting for? What was he afraid of?

"Natasha," he said carefully. "I _know _you."

"You don't." She said, and the pain in her voice nearly broke him.

"I do." He even more carefully placed his hands on her arms, fingers gently wrapping around to grip her triceps. "You are _good, _and I…"

He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. Why was he so nervous? The way she was looking up at him, with so much expectancy yet so much fear in her eyes made him feel like he was being pulled out to sea. He was caught in an overwhelming current that just had him drifting farther and farther away from solid ground. Coherent thought was leaving him, and he became all too aware of the threat of being ruled by the feeling in his chest, instead. It was like a bubble welling up inside of him. It wanted to take control and reign supreme over any logical thought processes he might have had up until this point.

"You mean the world to me, and I…" his eyes fell to her lips. "I would, uhm..."

Before he knew it, Steve was kissing her. His lips were on hers, and his hand had found its way to the back of her neck while his other arm snaked around her waist. The kiss was strong and warm and passionate, shattering the world around them and blowing it away in countless, tiny pieces. In an instant, Natasha remembered that tiny bit of fire that had ignited between them on the escalator in that mall all those years ago. This was more than that, though. This was so much more. It enveloped her completely and made her feel weak in the knees, and there was nothing else in the world she would've rather been doing than standing there and kissing him back with every ounce of the intensity that burned in her soul. How long had she wanted this? His bare flesh was warm and inviting. His lips were remarkably soft, especially against the growth on his chin. She felt like she would drown in him, and yet she felt like she was breathing, _truly _breathing, for the very first time.

Eventually, though, she _did _need to breathe. She pulled away, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, and looked up at him. There was fire in his eyes; an intensity that seemed new yet vaguely familiar all at once. Steve seemed a bit breathless, staring down at her and taking in a deep, shaky breath that she could feel reverberate in his chest. His hand pulled up to the side of her neck so his thumb could stroke her jawline. His rough skin felt warm and right against her smooth flesh. There was a moment of tense silence… and then he smiled at her.

Steve hadn't felt this way in… well, since he woke up from the ice. It was nothing like that… _disaster _with Sharon. That had been all pressure and feeling compelled to do something at the behest of others, and it had just felt so… wrong. Steve honestly didn't know why he'd done it. He hadn't really been expecting anything, which is exactly what he got. Well, he supposed that wasn't entirely true. He'd gotten a great deal of awkwardness and more than his fair share of disappointment in himself. Luckily, there was none of that here. This felt good. It felt _right. _He just hoped he wasn't the only one feeling that way. He realized that he maybe should have waited for a response or at least _asked _if this was okay before diving in head first and doing it. God, was he always this clueless?

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I should have-"

Natasha rolled up onto her toes and allowed their lips to meet once more. Her hands rested against Steve's firm chest, where she could feel the strong beat of his heart beneath her palm. He was like a tall, sturdy tree, where she was like the wind. Shifting, changing course, strength and temperature; unpredictable, but he could withstand it all the same. Because he was constant. Steve was one of the few, if not the only constant thing in her life. He was someone who felt like he'd been there forever, and someone who would continue to be there. She could count on him. She could _trust _him, and that felt better than she could've possibly imagined.

There were a lot of places this could go. Steve standing there shirtless in the middle of the bedroom; Natasha looking ethereal in the silvery moonlight that filtered in through the windows. It was a recipe for temptation. But Steve Rogers was a gentleman. So, after a few more slow, sweet minutes Steve finally willed himself to pull his lips away from Natasha's. He could feel the lingering sensation they left in their absence, and he wanted to replace that feeling immediately, but he knew he shouldn't. That, of course, brought the inevitable moment of "what now?". He looked down at her, hands gently gripping her waist, and saw the little glimmer of fire in her green eyes. It was life and passion and mischief all rolled into one.

"Well," she said, her voice quiet and smooth, "I suppose I'll… leave you to it, then."

If Natasha was anything, it was perceptive. She knew the type of man that Steve was, and she could see him teetering in this moment, uncertain of what to do next. This was foreign territory for him. It was for Natasha as well, but she wasn't _quite _as out of practice as he was. Regardless, she was cautious. She knew better than to give too much of herself to something too soon. There was still a lot to be figured out, a lot to be discussed, but for the time being, she was happy to walk away with the taste of Steve's kiss on her lips and the lingering warmth that still bubbled inside of her chest. She took a couple steps backwards, allowing his hands to fall away from her hips and hers to slide gently from his chest.

"Right," Steve said as he watched her. She moved with the ease and grace of a cat, backpedaling slowly through the dim room and towards the door. She had a little half smirk on her face, and that was the last thing he saw before she turned and slid out of the room.

Steve released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His chest deflated, shoulders sinking slightly, and he pushed one hand through his hair. That had been more nerve-wracking than jumping out of an airplane. But what was that saying? "Maximum effort, maximum reward"? Steve smiled to himself and resumed changing.

Natasha took refuge in the bathroom, where a long hot shower helped to unwind some of the nerves and adrenaline that had skyrocketed the second Steve kissed her. She had to admit, she was surprised. How many times had she pushed him towards a woman, just to watch him stumble like a deer in the headlights? She'd thought it due to inexperience, but maybe it was because of this. Natasha knew it was naive to think something like that. She would've never imagined that someone as good and true as Steve Rogers could harbor feelings for someone like her. She'd been so convinced that it could never happen that she fully expected it not to. Then, things had started to change. They'd grown closer, gotten to know, understand and respect each other more and more. And now…

_Now, what?_ She wondered. It wasn't like they could ride off into the sunset together and forget everything that happened these last few weeks. There was still a job to do, and they were intent on doing it, but what about after it was done? Natasha had never imagined anything for herself besides the next job; the next mission. She didn't know what kind of life she could hope to achieve. All she knew was that she couldn't imagine it without Steve. Everyone may have left, but he was still there. They were still together. Maybe… maybe it would stay that way.

_Shit… _Natasha thought.

She'd fallen for Steve Rogers.

The water was starting to turn from hot to warm, so she decided it would be best to get out of the shower. She dried off, dressed, and towel-dried her short blonde locks. In the quiet house, it was easy to make out the sound of the television playing in the living room. It wasn't nearly as loud as when Sam watched it, but Natasha could clearly hear the robust voice of a news anchor as he delivered the nightly news. Curious, Natasha quietly walked out to the living room, where Steve was sitting in a clean change of clothes on the couch. She leaned against the doorway for a moment, arms folded across her chest.

"The eleven o' clock news?" She said with the perk of a brow. "Really?"

Steve glanced over his shoulder at her, shaking his head at the coy expression on her face. "It's not a bad thing to know what's going on, you know." He said as he turned his attention back to the TV. "We were pretty disconnected for a couple days."

"Yeah, well..." Natasha said, stepping away from the doorway. "We've had our fair share of current events keeping us busy." She walked over to the couch and took a seat next to him. "Anything interesting?"

He looked at her. The truth was, there was nothing more interesting than what had transpired twenty minutes ago, but he'd needed a distraction. "Not yet," he said.

Natasha lifted Steve's arm and slid into place beneath it, tucking herself in against his side. She lowered it, wrapping it over her shoulders like a warm, heavy shawl. She leaned her head against him, legs curled up beneath her, and settled in. It was all done without a word. Steve watched her, a small smile tugging at his lips. Natasha's eyes were on the TV, her face relaxed but perceptive. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before turning his attention back to the news.

They sat in the dark living room, watching English news on a television that was five sizes too small. It was perhaps the most mundane thing Steve had done in a very long time, but it was perfect. It gave Steve a glimmer of hope that all the running, all the fighting, that wasn't all there was. That wasn't all he should expect out of life. There could be more. Even for spies and super soldiers, there could be more.


	12. Eye for an Eye

The sun was shining over the little cafe in downtown Wembley. A crowd of early risers was bustling in and out of the building with their teas and pastries while less busy patrons sat inside or at one of the little wrought iron tables on the patio. Some smooth-tempo instrumental music was playing over the cafe's speakers, accompanied by the sound of chirping birds as they flew around in a lazy search for scraps. Steve sat with a coffee in his hand and watched as Natasha peeled little flakes off her scone and tossed them to the ground. The small but opportunistic birds were quick to hop to the offered food and gobble it up.

A couple days of laying low had given Natasha a small case of cabin fever. She'd done her best to keep it under wraps, but Steve noticed it pretty easily. When she wasn't training or checking her computer, she was taking little walks around the block by the safehouse. Steve accompanied her on most of them. One of those walks, he suggested getting a little further out. Heading into the city might be good for them, and Steve felt like he hadn't had a decent cup of coffee in entirely too long. Natasha had seemed skeptical at first, but after that she was quick to oblige. Now, their day was just beginning, and Steve could already see some of the ease that had settled over her. She seemed like she was feeling less restless already. That was good.

Even still, Steve wasn't naive enough to think that Natasha wasn't paying close attention to every single thing around them. Even with the sunglasses obscuring her eyes from view, Steve knew she was constantly observing. Natasha was the queen of paying attention to things without looking like she was actually paying attention to them. It was an important skill set to have when it came to blending in. She'd taught Wanda a lot of those tricks of the trade. So, even though she appeared to be sipping tea and feeding birds, Steve knew that she was watching everything about the world around them.

That was okay. He was enough of a putz to be happy just sitting there watching her.

Of course, Natasha caught onto that, too. She abandoned her quest to feed birds and sat up straight in her seat, glancing at Steve from over the rims of her sunglasses. The soft, content look on his face stirred up a flurry of warm feelings in her stomach, but there was no way she would let onto that. Regardless of how much she'd been enjoying their closeness over the last few days, Natasha wasn't just going to _stop _giving Steve a hard time. It was practically the foundation of their relationship.

"What?" She asked when she caught him looking at her.

Unlike Natasha, Steve wasn't wearing sunglasses. He'd removed his aviator shades a while ago and left them to hang from the collar of his shirt. Thus, his brilliant baby blues were out in full force. He grinned as he searched Natasha's face for a moment, ultimately just shaking his head.

"Nothing," he told her. "This is nice, is all."

"Hm," she made a contemplative sound as she reached forward and broke a piece off of the croissant that sat on Steve's place. She popped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully and savoring the flaky, buttery taste.

To return the favor of the borrowed bite, Nat broke off a piece of her scone and extended it towards Steve.

He shook his head.

"Just _try _it." She said, reaching a little further. "You'll like it."

Steve sighed, leaned forward, and took the bite. There was some sort of berry compote in the middle and a light, creamy frosting drizzled on top. He wasn't one for sweets, but even he had to admit it was great.

Natasha returned her hand to the table and watched him chew, her lips pushed to one side in a half-smirk. "Told you." She said, smugness in her tone. She popped her thumb in her mouth to remove the little bit of frosting left there. When it was gone, she lowered her hand down again.

"This isn't so bad, right?" Steve asked after a moment. "Sunshine. Breakfast." He raised his mug. "Coffee."

Nat got the sinking suspicion he wanted some sort of acknowledgement for being right about the fact that she needed to get out of the house. Even though he _was _right, she wasn't going to give Steve the satisfaction of hearing it. She just leaned back in her seat and removed the sunglasses from her face.

"No," she said. "I suppose it's not _too _terrible."

Steve grinned. He looked to the side and saw a couple pushing a small infant in a stroller. "I dunno… I think I could get used to it. Not being on the run? Not being shot at?" His eyes returned to Natasha. "It kind of has a nice ring to it."

The former-spy's face had become a bit more serious. She'd watched Steve's gaze drag over to the small family that had walked by. She saw the light and the appreciation in his eyes. It made her heart hurt a little. This whole… thing between them was still rather new, but Nat couldn't help but wonder how it might pan out. Even if they did manage to somehow step away from a life of running and fighting… what then? Her green eyes darted back towards the family. It wasn't like she could ever give him something like _that. _

"Is that what you'd want?" Natasha found herself asking before she really had time to think about it. When she looked at Steve, her expression was just as surprised as his. "I mean… a 'normal' life. Do you think you could ever really give up fighting the good fight?" She forced a smirk onto her face.

"What would the world do without Captain America?" She asked.

Steve seemed to think about that for a moment, his brow furrowing a little. What _did _he want? He'd never really had much time to think about it. For so long, life had been duty above all else. Missions and fights and saving the world had been all he'd known. All he'd been needed for. But… what if someone needed him for something else? What if _he _wanted something else? He folded his arms across his chest and released a little sigh.

"There are a lot of heroes out there that can do more than I ever could," he said. "I think the world would be in pretty good hands."

"Just because someone has powers doesn't mean they have your moral code," Natasha pointed out. "Your drive." She leaned forward, elbows on the table and chin in her hand. A little smile pulled at her lips.

"They just don't make 'em like you anymore," she said.

"That's a good thing," Steve pointed out. "They shouldn't me 'making them' at all. Garrett is a prime example of that." That, unfortunately, had his mind circling back around to the very thing he was wondering if he could live without. The mission.

"Have you heard anything?" Steve asked.

Natasha shook her head. She lifted her chin from her hand, sitting up straight once more. "No," she said. "I don't know whether to be relieved or worried about that. They made some arrests at the docks, but as far as I can tell… Garrett's gone and 'Dust' is… still in the wind."

She couldn't help the cheeky little smile at that one.

Steve rolled his eyes.

"What?" Natasha gawked. "Dust in the wind? It's a song-"

"I _know _what it is." Steve said.

"Whatever." Natasha lifted her cup to her lips. "That was funny."

The rest of the day was spent similarly and blissfully uneventful. They saw the huge Wembley Stadium and a wax museum that thoroughly creeped Steve out. They took a bus to London and took a ride on the London Eye, the tallest observation wheel in Europe. Steve didn't understand why they didn't just call it a ferris wheel, seeing as that's pretty much what it was. Regardless of the name, it was pretty spectacular. He stood with Natasha in an enclosed bubble that took them up over four-hundred feet in the air. The view was nothing short of amazing. The Coney Island ferris wheel certainly had nothing on this one.

That thought had a memory rushing into Steve's brain. Not a memory, but rather a dream. Red lights. The ferris wheel. Peggy. She was sitting at the top, patiently waiting for him. Yet, no matter what, Steve knew he would always be alone down there on the ground, and Peggy would remain up there in the sky. Because Peggy was gone. Steve turned his gaze to the side and saw Natasha standing beside him now. She looked out at the horizon, her face peaceful and appreciative. A soft smile tugged at her lips. It'd never really left since the moment they got up here.

Steve stepped a little closer and reached out, lacing his fingers with Natasha's. The contact pulled her attention away from the window. She looked at him, instead, angling her body towards his. Her eyes glanced down to their conjoined hands before traveling back up to his face. The setting sun behind him was clearly visible through the clear glass of their enclosure. The sky was burning with warm colors that silhouetted his figure and somehow made his blue eyes seem to burn even brighter, especially against the contrast of his beard. He was a painfully handsome man, and Nat found herself stepping a little closer to him. She wasn't one for public displays of affection- except to make people uncomfortable, of course- but this closeness between herself and Steve was still so new that she found it somewhat contagious.

Still, she noted the somewhat serious, thoughtful expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

The question was so far off Steve's current frame of thinking that it surprised him a little. His brows lifted, and he had that look on his face like he'd been caught off-guard. "What?" He asked, brows dipping back down into a slight furrow. After a moment, he realized why Nat might have asked the question. He shook his head.

"Nothing," he said, lifting her hand up a bit. His eyes found hers. He knew that this was all still pretty fresh. He might have felt this way about Natasha for way longer than he realized, but he'd only just come clean about it. Being honest with her had worked in his favor so far, though. Maybe it would work again.

"I was just thinking that I-"

_Thunk._

The sound of something hitting, and suctioning to, the window caught their attention.

Natasha and Steve both turned their heads to see something that looked like a black circle with four, short, octopus-like legs attached to it. It was attached to the glass of the passenger capsule they rode in. Natasha peered a little closer and saw a small, blinking red light on the underside. Her eyes widened.

Steve grabbed her right as the explosion happened. He dove across the enclosure, putting himself and Natasha as far away from the shattering glass as possible. They hit the floor, Steve's body covering Natasha. The cart rocked aggressively on the metal arm holding it to the wheel. Then, there was a loud groan and a gut-wrenching snap as the enclosure broke off one of the bars holding it in place.

Both Steve and Natasha went sliding down, gravity pulling them towards the opening that had been blown in the passenger capsule. Their bodies separated during the fall, Steve's falling a bit quicker than Nat's. He was the first to clear the broken glass. Natasha, on her way down, was able to grab the base of the metal seating that ran around the perimeter of the capsule. She extended her other hand and reached for Steve. Her fingers laced around his wrist, the sudden weight of his body pulling her shoulder painfully. She held onto him with every ounce of strength in her body. The sight of him dangling below her, the wind whipping his hair and glass sprinkling down all around him was enough of a motivation to keep her holding on while he reached out with his opposite hand to grab something sturdy. He pulled himself up enough that Natasha was able to let him go. They were both secure, for now, but they were still dangling hundreds of feet up in the air in a capsule whose structural integrity had been more than a little compromised.

It wasn't a great situation.

The sound of screams could be heard from nearby capsules. Natasha looked frantically around to see if anyone else was in trouble. It didn't look like they were. The force of the explosion had some of the other enclosures rocking a bit more than usual, but it seemed that the bomb, itself, had been targeted to their capsule only. That was good, but it also meant that this was far from over. What's more, the wheel had stopped moving. Anyone who needed to get to safety, including Steve and Natasha, were just going to have to wait.

Natasha swung her other arm up and gripped the metal seat base with both hands. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and the sound of rushing wind in her ears was making it hard to hear. The aggressive gusts whipped her hair in front of her face and obscured her view every few seconds. She struggled to remain calm, though. She couldn't risk slipping up, quite literally, and falling. She _really _didn't want to end up as a greasy smear on the sidewalk.

"There's a ladder on the A-frame!" Steve shouted over the sounds of chaos all around them. "If we can get to it, we can climb down!"

Natasha followed his gaze. They would have to navigate the metal arm and into the framework of the wheel to get to the ladder. Not impossible, but certainly not pleasant. One strong gust of wind, or another explosive blast to the wheel could send them over. Worse yet, it could put more people at risk. They needed to get out of here, though. Preferably sooner rather than later.

"Go!" She shouted to him. "I'll follow!"

If Steve had his way, he would've carried Nat on his back, but he knew that wasn't feasible. He needed his balance and his strength. He also needed to identify where the hell that explosive had come from. He hadn't been able to pin-point a trajectory just yet. There was no use hanging around thinking about it, though. They had to start moving. So, after one last glance up at Natasha, Steve used his enhanced strength to pull himself up the outer edge of the cap-sized enclosure. He tried not to put too much weight on the capsule itself, for fear of it coming unhinged completely. He got close enough to the metal arm holding the capsule, pushed himself off of the pod, and gripped onto the arm with both hands. He grunted as he pulled himself up. When he was (mostly) sure he wouldn't fall, he turned to look for Natasha.

She was swinging herself out of the capsule with the grace of an acrobat. Her strong, lithe frame moved easily between bars and wires until she found herself up on the arm with Steve. They were both crouching, neither one of them wanting to risk standing and losing their balance. As Steve planned out the best trajectory to get them to the ladder, Natasha scoped out the area. A multitude of police vehicles were already rolling up to the scene below, and a helicopter was coming in from the distance. She couldn't yet tell if it was a news chopper police-issued. Either way, she didn't want to stick around to find out.

"They're letting people off at ground level!" She told Steve. "We need to get to that ladder before this thing starts moving again!"

They started moving across the metal arm, inward towards the center of the structure. The sound of the helicopter grew louder. It's chopping blades kicked up a stronger gust of wind as it got closer to the Eye. Natasha paused and looked out. The helicopter was black. Definitely not media-owned. And given the lack of identifying letters, she guessed it wasn't police, either.

"Move!" She yelled.

But it was too late. The door to the helicopter slid open to reveal a huge gatling gun. Behind it was none other than Garrett himself. He opened fire, and bullets started tearing through the air. They pinged noisily against the metal beams of the wheel and whizzed by like tiny missiles in the air. Steve and Natasha picked up the pace, forced to stand up and try to run towards the ladder. When they got close enough, they leaped for the center frame and found relative safety. Thankfully, neither one of them had been shot.

Steve took a moment and watched the helicopter start to circle around the Eye. Bullets would spray through the air periodically, hitting the capsules containing other passengers. The glass seemed to be holding, but people were screaming and cowering in fear. Steve looked over to Natasha.

"Get to the ground and help get people off this thing." He told her.

"And just what the hell are you going to be doing?" She shot back.

"I need to get that bird out of the air." He told her.

"You can't bring it down here!" She protested. "If it crashes in the street, there's no telling how many people will get hurt." Or worse. What's more, Steve didn't exactly have a good track record with landing aircrafts. She gave him a pained, worried look.

Steve gripped Natasha's shoulder. "I've got this," he told her. He was surprisingly calm. "Just trust me."

She looked at him for a moment, brows furrowed and lips pursed. Then, she sighed. "God _damnit_, Rogers." She cursed. "I knew I shouldn't have let you take me out."

He grinned at her. "Heck of a first date, though."

"Who said anything about a date?" Natasha grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him in for a brief but powerful kiss. When she released him, she gave him a serious look. "Be careful."

He nodded his sage understanding of the order. Then, as Natasha made her way down, Steve made his way up. He traversed the metal framework of the wheel, which became increasingly difficult as it started moving again. Operators were in a hurry to get people to the ground and to safety, which was understandable given the happy trigger finger that Garrett was exhibiting. The helicopter circled around a few times as Garrett no doubt tried to take stock of what was going on. He probably didn't expect to see Natasha and Steve separating. Hopefully they could use that to their advantage.

Fighting wind, gravity, and the knowledge that this was just plain old stupid, Steve worked his way up the ferris wheel. He grabbed onto a thick metal beam and swung himself up to a crouch on top of it. The helicopter rose into view, hovering in the air several yards away from the Eye. Garrett was behind the gun, gearing up to fire more shots. Steve wasn't going to give him the opportunity. Rising, Steve gained his balance. Then, he started running. He gained speed as he ran out towards the end of the arm. He planted his feet on top of an unoccupied capsule and then launched himself forward.

_Natasha is going to kill me for this,_ he thought.

If he didn't die first, of course.

Steve reached out, and his hands found one of the landing skids protruding from the bottom of the helicopter. The aircraft swayed hard to the right under the added weight of Steve's sudden presence. He could hear shouting inside and the loud beeping of the helicopter's warning sensors. It turned in a few, sporadic circles before righting itself and zooming away from the ferris wheel.

By the time Natasha reached the ground, everyone was looking up at the spectacle happening in the air. She tilted her head back and watched, breathless, as Steve jumped off the ferris wheel and onto the helicopter. She ran out from beneath the wheel and into the crowded, chaotic street to get a better view. For a moment, it looked like the helicopter might go down. Then, it started making its way away from the wheel with Steve dangling below it. Ignoring her previous mission to help get people off the Eye, Natasha started running in an attempt to follow the helicopter.

"Freeze!" Someone shouted.

She turned around to see two policemen with their guns trained on her. Apparently being shot at by a helicopter made her a suspect.

"Don't move!"

Natasha held her hands up in the air as the two officers approached her. One kept his weapon pointed at her while the other holstered his and circled behind her with his handcuffs out. He pulled Natasha's arms down behind her back and clipped the first handcuff around her left wrist. She looked over her shoulder to see the helicopter briefly disappear from view as it passed behind a building.

"Sorry, fellas." She said. "But I'm a little busy right now."

She leaned her head backwards, reverse headbutting the officer behind her. Then, she whipped her arms forward and looped the other handcuff around the wrist of the officer with the gun. The cuff clicked into place around his wrist, and she pulled it downward as he released three shots from his weapon. The bullets fired into the ground, not hurting anyone, but doing nothing to calm the panic around them. Natasha used her free hand to wrench the gun from his grip, and then she spun under his arm and placed herself behind him. His handcuffed wrist was bent behind his back, causing him to grunt in pain.

His buddy had recovered by now, though he was sporting a broken nose. He had pulled his gun, but with the officer in front of her, this one had no good shot.

"I don't want to hurt you," Natasha said. Well, no worse than she already had. "I'm not the bad guy here. Just put the gun down and let me go after the person who is."

The officer wavered, obviously wary and unsure of what to do in this situation. Natasha sighed. She lifted the gun she had stolen and placed it against the temple of the officer she was handcuffed to. The safety was on, but the other guy didn't need to know that.

"Put your gun down." She reiterated, more firmly this time.

This time, the officer listened.

"Kick it away." She told him.

He did that, too.

"Thank you," she said. "And… sorry."

She pressed the release and allowed the clip to fall out of the gun she was holding. Then, she threw the weapon right at the other officer, hitting him square between the eyes with it. He fell backwards and hit the ground, knocked out cold. Nat kicked the back of the knee of the officer she was handcuffed to, forcing him to kneel. When he was down, she delivered a quick strike to the side of his head that knocked him out. She pulled the keys from his belt, undid her restraints, and cuffed the two officers together. Then, she grabbed the gun that she'd made the other officer kick away. She checked the clip, loaded a bullet into the chamber, and tucked the weapon in the waistband of her pants. After that, she started running.

By now, she had no idea where the helicopter had gone. All she could do was follow the crowds and try to hear what they were saying. She ran through the busy city streets. She grabbed the cap off of a guy she passed and hastily hid her blonde hair underneath of it as she put it on her head. Then, she snatched a sweater off a clothing rack outside of a store. There were some shouts of protest behind her, but there was far too much going on for anyone to be able to chase her. She shouldered through the crowds, turning corners and passing storefronts, until she saw a group of people standing in front of a store. Some of them had hands over their mouths while others just stood, slack-jawed and staring at… something.

Natasha came to a halt by the crowd, slipping her way through people to get a closer look at what they were seeing. Her breath, already coming in ragged gasps, left her when she saw what they were looking at. A group of TV's inside the window were showing the live news. The scene of a helicopter crash caused Natasha's heart to drop into her stomach. The aircraft had come down on the bank of the River Thames, a few miles east of where they were. The sight of smoking metal half-submerged in the river was…

_No._

She turned and pushed her way out of the crowd, trying to take deep, cleansing breaths to calm the angry beating of her heart. Steve was okay. He had to be. There was… there was no other option. Ignoring the stinging sensation in her eyes, Natasha started running again. She headed east.


	13. Hell or High Water

Steve woke up feeling like he'd drank too much of Thor's Asgardian wine. There was a heavy fog around him and a pounding in his head that just wouldn't quit. His body felt like lead, his limbs too heavy to even lift. He tried once or twice, but each attempt proved fruitless. It wasn't until his third try that he realized why. His arms and legs were strapped down to some type of table he was securely fastened upright to. The attempt at escape had adrenaline starting to pump through his veins, increasing his heart rate and helping to lift some of the fog around him. As he became more aware, he took stock of his surroundings.

There were wires attached to pads placed on his bare chest, as well as some strange, itchy device on his head. When he looked to the side, Steve could see screens and monitors beside him, reading off his heart rate, blood pressure, and other things he didn't recognize. The room itself was small. The walls and floor were bare. There was one door, and no windows, but Steve got the distinct feeling he was being watched. He stopped struggling for the time being and tried to remember how he'd gotten here.

He remembered scaling the London Eye, jumping onto the helicopter and then… not much else. Garrett had been there. He did remember that. Steve got the vague sensation that the man had been waiting for him. Expecting him, even. He must have hit Steve with some type of sedative, because everything was nothing but darkness after that. Now, he had no idea where he was or how much time had passed. His mind went to Natasha. Did she make it off the Ferris wheel? Where was she? Was she okay? The not knowing gripped at Steve's stomach and twisted his guts. He had to get out of here. He had to find her.

But first, he had to find out what Garrett was planning.

"I know someone's out there!" He called out. There was no way Garrett wouldn't have someone watching him. "I'm awake now, so… you might as well tell me what this is all about."

Steve kept his voice calm; maybe even a little bored. He had this remarkable ability to seem unphased by mostly anything. Most bad guys found it pretty annoying, and Steve thought that was just great. What _wasn't _great was the fact that his restraints still weren't budging. They must have been made of something pretty strong if they could hold Steve and all of his enhanced strength. Either that, or Garrett had dosed him with something a lot more potent than he thought. Regardless, it wasn't an ideal situation. After a few moments, the door opened.

Garrett walked into the room, followed by the leather-clad Lady Dust, herself. The latter was wearing a pretty smug look on her face as she came to a stop and folded her arms across her chest. Garrett was a hard read thanks to all that metal in his face. His scarred and stretched skin gave him something of a permanent sneer, and the flesh around his right eye was equally distorted. His metallic arms rested calmly at his sides. His face twitched in what Steve was pretty sure was a genuine smile.

"Good morning, Captain." Garrett said. "Glad to see you're finally awake. It's been, what?" he glanced at Lady Dust. "Two days?"

Dust nodded, and Garrett returned his gaze to Steve. "I was starting to think I might have put a little too much sedative in that cocktail I gave you."

_Two days? _Steve tried to keep his face calm in response to that news, but Garrett must have caught the little twitch in his brows, because the man was chuckling. Steve forced himself to ignore Garrett's smug attitude and the tiny bit of nervousness bubbling in his own chest.

"What'd you do with Natasha?" He asked instead.

"Nothing." Lady Dust said in her best Frank N. Furter impression. "Why? Do you think I should?"

Steve ignored her and focused on Garrett. "Where is she?"

Garrett shrugged. "Not sure," he said. "She wasn't my concern at the time.

That brought Steve some relief, though not much. Natasha might have been safe, but Garrett might have been bluffing. Regardless, if she wasn't his concern, then what was?

"What do you want, Garrett?"

"Just your patience." Garrett replied. "I've gotten all the samples I need from you, but it turns out rewiring the brain isn't as quick a process as I thought."

"What are you talking about?"

Garrett shrugged. "Why _just _make copies when I can have the original, too?" He nodded to Lady Dust, and she casually walked over to the monitors that Steve was hooked up to. He watched as she started pressing buttons and turning dials.

"You aren't just going to help me make perfect soldiers, Captain," Garrett said. "You're going to help me lead them. We'll keep everything we need in that brain of yours, throw away everything we don't, and when all is said and done, we're going to burn S.H.I.E.L.D. to the ground. And if there's anyone stupid enough to get in my way after that, we'll burn them, too."

A wave of anger and panic brought a newfound surge of strength through Steve. It had him pulling against his restraints once more. The veins in his arms and neck began to bulge as he gritted his teeth and fought to free himself.

"You're crazy, Garrett!" Steve said, losing some of that calm from before. "This is never going to work!"

He could feel the metal bindings around his arms start to creak, threatening to give way. Garrett nodded to Lady Dust once more. She smiled and pressed a button.

A high-pitched ringing sounded in Steve's ears. Then, there was pain. His head felt like it was being split apart at the seams. Steve squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He tried to fight the pain, but it was no use. Whatever Dust had done wiped all the fight right out of him. His body went limp against his restraints. Garrett and Dust smiled and left him, screaming, in the room.

…

Natasha came to a breathless halt at the site of the helicopter crash. There was smoke, fire, and charred metal as the aircraft sat, half-submerged in the river. Nat's heart hammered in her chest, her stomach did flips, and an indescribable panic gripped her throat. She stood frozen in place for two seconds too long, too afraid to move. She could hear the increasing volume of the approaching sirens, though, and she knew she had to be gone before they got here. So, she swallowed her nerves and ran the rest of the way to the helicopter.

The pilot was slumped over the control console, his helmet obscuring most of his face. Natasha checked for a pulse and found none. Beyond that, there was… nothing. There was no one in the helicopter, nor any evidence that anyone had been there to begin with. She looked all around but could find no signs that anyone had left the crash site. There were no mercenaries. There was no Garrett, but most importantly… there was no Steve.

A mix of relief and worry washed over Natasha. If Steve wasn't with the helicopter when it went down, it meant he could still be out there somewhere, safe. But where? Natasha left the scene and tried to retrace the path the helicopter had taken before it went down. Maybe they'd jumped out somewhere beforehand. Maybe someone had seen something. Natasha walked every possible square inch she could think of in search of Steve or any sign that might lead her to him.

That had been two days ago.

Now, all Natasha had for her efforts were sleepless nights and more worry than she ever thought possible. There was no sign of Steve, or Garrett for that matter, and she was beginning to fear the worst. Natasha had, of course, called on Sam for help. He'd scoured the skies and searched all of London in an attempt to find Steve. Like Natasha, he'd come up with nothing. He didn't seem as discouraged, though.

"We're gonna find him, Nat." Sam told her, his hand on her shoulder. "Steve's a hard man to kill, and if… if Garrett somehow managed that, we'd know about it. He wouldn't keep something like that to himself."

Natasha's stoic face was a poor depiction of the fear she felt inside. She kept her jaw firmly clamped as she stared off into space, her arms folded across her chest. She hoped that Sam was right, but she worried that he wasn't. There had been no threats, no gloats; no demands from Garrett. He'd gone completely silent, which, after the stunt he pulled in London, was pretty troubling. He'd made a lot of noise at the Ferris wheel. For him to follow that up with nothing was… pretty disconcerting.

"We need Vision's help." She said after a few moments. She turned her green eyes to Sam. "Steve's phone was the only thing that could lead me to him." And she'd found _that _busted to pieces in some random side street.

"There has to be some other way to track him." If there was, Vision would know.

Vision and Wanda met them outside of London the next night. Natasha almost couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Wanda accompanied by a tall, blonde… _man. _Yet, the second he spoke, she knew it to be the floating, red-skinned A.I. they all knew and loved.

"Wanda has suggested I take measures to better… acclimate with my surroundings." Vision explained. "We found this form most acceptable." He held his arms out to his sides for a moment to allow them to get a better look. It was a solid disguise. Natasha would say that he had acclimated quite well. Wanda's appreciative smile seemed to suggest she thought the same thing.

The look fell, though, when she returned her gaze to Natasha. "Viz told me about Steve," she said with sadness in her tone. "I am so sorry. Have you heard anything?"

Natasha shook her head. "No," she said. "And I've exhausted every resource I have to look for him. I know we said we'd let you two stay off the radar, but…" her voice trailed off.

Wanda placed a hand Natasha's arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "It's okay," she told her. "We must always look after each other first."

The four of them went to a small coffee shop that stayed open late. It was relatively empty when it came to patrons, but Natasha still found them a table tucked away in a back corner of the building. She pulled her laptop out of her bag and slid it across the table to Vision. She didn't know if he'd even need it, but she thought it best to at least present the opportunity. He did, in fact, open it and fire it up. There was no asking for passwords or WiFi codes. He didn't even touch the thing beyond opening it. His eyes roamed around the screen, and whatever he wanted to happen just… happened.

Natasha did her best to keep her nervous leg-bouncing to a minimum, but Sam was still questioning whether or not he should've gotten her decaf when he returned with coffees.

"When's the last time you slept?" He asked as he set the coffees down and then took a seat next to her. "Like, _really _slept. You look-"

"If you tell me I look like crap, I'm going to stick a spoon in your eye." She threatened.

Sam held his hands up in surrender. "I was _just _gonna say you look like you could use a break."

"Steve wouldn't rest if it were one of us," Nat said. "He _didn't _rest when it was Wanda. We don't have time for breaks." She reached forward and grabbed her coffee. "I'll sleep when he's back."

And they'd get him back, because Natasha didn't know what she'd do if they didn't.

Sam nodded his understanding and stirred some cream into his coffee. Vision's cup was left ignored. Wanda gripped hers gently between two hands, eyes glancing over to the computer screen every so often. Vision had gone quiet, and they thought it was best to just let him work, but the curiosity among them was palpable. Natasha wondered what he was looking through; what databases he'd cracked into and was perusing. She wondered what he was looking _for, _as well. What would Vision think of that Natasha had failed to? The possibilities seemed sort of endless.

"Hm…" Vision said. It was pretty much the universal sound for "I've found something".

Natasha looked up from her coffee. "What is it?"

"There seem to be some strange anomalies on the power grid near Rochester." Vision said.

"Rochester?" Sam said. "We're talking Rochester, England, right?"

Natasha gave him a look.

"Well, I don't know!" He said. "It's been two days. Garrett could've gotten Steve halfway across China for all we know! Is it so hard to believe he could make his way to New York?"

It was a good point, but Natasha refused to indulge it. Instead, she looked back to Vision who confirmed that it was indeed Rochester, England, he was talking about.

"It seems there have been some small alterations to adjust power flow." Vision said.

Natasha and Sam both moved around the table to stand behind him and look at the computer screen. A grid of the city showed yellow lines indicating electricity flow. Small circuits appeared to have been siphoned off their main courses and directed elsewhere. It clearly wasn't enough to raise the suspicion of local authorities, but that seemed too purposeful to be a coincidence.

"Where is it all running to?" Nat asked.

The grid became quickly overlaid with a satellite image of the city. The other power lines disappeared, only showing the ones of interest. They mapped back toward a central location that Vision zoomed in on. A few more screens popped up on the monitor. Search results, old websites and digital archives showed the location to be a veterinary clinic that had closed permanently a while back. All utilities had been shut off to the place. It shouldn't have been receiving any power at all, so the fact it was getting this much was definitely suspicious. Suspicious, but it didn't quite make sense.

"Why would Garrett need that much power?" Wanda wondered aloud.

"Maybe our friend Lady Dust is opening up a new kink shop," Sam said.

Natasha gave him another look. "You _really _want me to shove that spoon in your eye, don't you?"

Sam shrugged, arms folded across his chest. "My next was going to be robot army, so…"

Nat shook her head and returned her attention to the computer. She tapped her fingers against the outside of her hips as she thought. The space wasn't big enough for Garrett to be building or assembling anything. At least, she didn't assume so. There was a possibility there was some underground space they weren't accounting for, but it didn't seem likely. Still, if Garrett _was _there, there had to be a reason for it. There had to be a reason he'd chosen that location. Natasha was starting to think that the man didn't do anything without some sort of plan or reasoning behind it. He _was _ex-S.H.I.E.L.D., after all.

"Alright," she finally said. She looked to Sam. "We can check it out."

"We'll go with you," Wanda said.

Natasha looked down to her friend. "You guys have already done enough," she told her. "I don't want to risk exposing you to that nut job again."

"There is a very high possibility that John Garrett has reinforcements," Vision said. "It would be unwise for you and Sam to attempt this rescue alone. Probability of success would be astoundingly low." He glanced at Wanda and gave a nod. "Wanda and I will accompany you."

Natasha pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at them for a second. It seemed pointless to try and argue with someone who was leaps and bounds smarter than she was. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't at least _look _like she was going to argue. Ultimately, however, she just took a deep breath and released it with a sigh and a nod.

"Okay," she said. "But this means we act now." She glanced down at the watch on her wrist. "We still have plenty of night ahead of us. We take enough time to get suited up, and then we head out."

Steve needed them, and they couldn't wait any longer.

No one argued.

They left the coffee shop a few minutes later. There wasn't much "suiting up" that Wanda or Vision needed to do, so they simply followed Sam and Natasha to the vehicle they had parked a mile or so away. It was an outdated panel van. Not exactly the flashiest car Natasha had ever driven, but it worked just fine when it came to storing all of her and Sam's gear. Wanda sat on the front bumper while Vision allowed his disguise to fall away. Natasha circled around to the back of the van, where she opened the doors and swapped her computer bag for a duffel bag with her gear. Sam grabbed his bag and walked a few steps away. He needed a bit more room to suit up than Nat did.

She slid into her protective vest and then worked on strapping her Widow's Bite gauntlets to her wrists. The methodical work of putting on her gear usually felt like a comfort to her. It was something she could focus on and allow the rest of the world to slowly drown out. Tonight, though, there was no drowning out her fears. Each bullet, blade and tool she owned reminded her of who she'd have to put them in to get to Steve. Each zipper she zipped and belt she buckled were all that stood between her and whatever mercenary or mastermind who wanted to bring her down. It didn't matter. Natasha would charge headfirst through an army of demons to protect those she loved. And, damn, did she love Steve.

_There's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Romanoff…_ she thought dryly.

Natasha slid her batons into place at her back and rejoined the others at the front of the van.

"Alright," she said. "Let's finish this."


	14. Mind Over Matter

In pure, "bad guy's evil hideout" fashion, the old vet clinic that Vision located was situated on the less-than-pleasant side of town. It was on the outskirts of the west side of the city, close to the Medway River. If there was any guessing of whether or not Garrett was holed up there, it became a pretty definitive "yes" when Natasha realized how close to the river it was. That seemed to be a calling card of sorts of Garrett's. He'd tried to kidnap Wanda via river, he'd crashed a helicopter in one, and now this. Apparently the guy had some obsession with being close to bodies of water. She didn't have time to do any sort of psych evaluation to figure out why. Not that she cared. Her goal was to get Steve and put Garrett behind the thickest bars they could find.

Vision and Sam had scouted ahead and found that the place was, indeed, heavily guarded. They reported at least half a dozen armed guards posted around the perimeter with the promise of more inside. Vision was able to identify a centralized location that the power seemed to be running to. It was definitely a cause for concern. They would need to focus their attention there. If Garrett was building some type of weapon, they would definitely want to make sure they disarmed it before things got too loud inside the building. There was no way of telling what it was, though. Not until they were in the room with it. Natasha would need Vision to go in with her. If there was some kind of complicated tech in there, he would be the best bet at figuring it out.

Sam and Wanda would handle the guards outside and clear a path for Natasha and Vision to make their way into the building. This would be a tall order. They needed to apprehend Garrett and all his goons. There would be no getting away this time. Of course, finding Steve was Natasha's priority number one, but she would be sure to bag as many mercs as she could on her way. She has a lot of aggression that needed taking out.

They ditched their vehicle a mile out and decided to go the rest of the way on foot. Vision took to the skies once more, given his ability to fly a lot more quietly than Sam. As always, they kept in contact via the small devices nestled in their ears. Natasha had to admit, it was nice to have the band back together again. She just wished it wasn't for this reason. Any positive feelings brought about by the reunion were easily and heavily outweighed by the worry she harbored over Steve. She would've been content never suiting up again a day in her life if it meant never having to feel this kind of fear again.

"Two guards are stationed on the building's south side." Vision informed them. "Three on the north end, and two between the east and west sides."

"I'll go in loud to the south side," Sam said. "Wanda, you clear the front while the attention's on me."

Wanda nodded her understanding. A bit of red light swirled in her eyes and around her fingers. Natasha remembered the last time she'd seen Wanda use her powers and hoped that they wouldn't see a repeat tonight. If there was some kind of bomb or weapon inside the building, the last thing they needed was to shake the place around. Perhaps keeping Wanda near the north side was their way of preventing that. If she realized that, the woman made no sign of it. She seemed fine with her role in all this. That was good. They didn't have time for doubt.

As the building came into view, Vision descended quietly in line with Natasha and the others, just as Sam threw his thrusters into high gear and zoomed into the air. He left a stream of fire and smoke in his wake as he shot over towards the other end of the building, turning heads and raising alarms as he went. The guards at the front of the building had little time to react to Sam's presence. Wanda, Natasha and Vision jogged into view, and Wanda lifted them into the air in a current of red energy. She pulled two the left and one to the right, opening a path for Natasha and Vision to make their way through the front doors.

Vision went first, turning translucent as he phased through the closed doors. There were some pops of gunfire inside, and then the doors opened, revealing some broken chains swinging from the inner handles. Natasha pulled her batons and ran into the building. What used to be a check-in area was situated in the center of the main lobby, with hallways running off to the left and right sides. The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard approaching from either end.

"You go left; I'll take right." Natasha told Vision. "No one gets away."

She attached her batons together to create one, long, electrically-charged staff and jogged to meet her opponents head on. The dim overhead lighting did little to improve visibility, but Natasha found she sorely missed them when the power suddenly cut out, and she was left in darkness. She switched the electricity on her staff, putting out some blue light of crackling energy. Nat could see some of the guards were wearing night vision goggles, suggesting the power outage was no coincidence. Garrett must have assumed there would be some kind of search for Steve and subsequent attack. These guys were armed to the gills and ready for a fight. Good. So was Natasha.

"Hey, fellas." She said as she came to a stop in front of them. "Mind telling me where the little girls' room is?"

That signature half-smirk formed on her face just as she lifted her staff and knocked aside the barrel of the first gun that was pointed at her. The shots fired off to the right of her head. They were loud and made her ears ring, but it was a hell of a lot better than a slug to the brain. Nat flipped the staff around, bringing the lower end up and connecting it with the bottom of the first guy's chin. His protective helmet wasn't doing much protecting in that area. The impact had his head snapping backward and a spray of blood leaving his mouth. He staggered back a couple of steps into the guard behind him. Natasha ran forward, planted one end of her staff into the ground, and pole vaulted herself into him, driving both of her booted feet into his chest and sending him and the guy behind him to the ground.

She used his leg as leverage to launch herself up into the air once more and felt the satisfying crunch of bone beneath her feet as she jumped. Natasha moved to the right, planting one boot against the wall and pushing off of it to deliver her opposite knee into the face mask of a third guard. As he staggered back, she dropped low to the ground, her staff positioned horizontally across the tops of her shoulders. She planted one knee into the floor and spun, whipping the staff out and connecting it with the backs of the guy's legs. As he fell, Natasha pressed one palm against the floor and pushed herself up into a one-handed handstand. Then, she flipped over and brought one foot down hard against the side of the guard's helmet, cracking it and knocking him out cold.

Instinct had her snapping her head to the side, just in time to see one of the guards she'd knocked over previously stand up and pull a handgun. Natasha leaped backwards and pressed her back to the wall as he fired off two shots that narrowly missed her. While she was on the defensive, the other guard popped out from behind the one with the gun and rushed her. He tackled into Natasha's side, knocking her to the ground. The side of her head bounced off the unforgiving floor, making her see stars for a second. She recovered quickly, though, rolling onto her back and grabbing her staff that had scattered to her left side. She brought it up in front of her just as the guard was sending a fist down at her face. Natasha blocked the shot, but the guard was thrifty. He pulled a knife with his left hand and dug it into Nat's side. Her protective vest took most of the blade, but she felt some of that steel bite into her ribcage.

Growling, Natasha unscrewed her staff, separating it back into two batons. She charged up the left and delivered an anger-fueled strike across the side of the guy's face. He was sent rolling off of her and twitching from the voltage coursing through his body. Natasha dropped her other baton long enough to pull the knife from her side and fling it at the remaining guard. It stuck into the meaty flesh of his thigh, bringing him down to one knee. Screwing her batons back together, Natasha used her staff to push herself back to a stand. She stalked over to the kneeling guard, a predatory fire in her green gaze.

"Where's your boss?" She asked, eerily calm.

"Go to hell!" The man shot back.

Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "You know," she said as she detached her batons once more and placed them at her back, "just _once_, it would be nice to be able to have a civil conversation with you guys."

She stepped a little closer and placed the toe of her boot on top of the handle of the knife sticking out of his leg. "Once more," she said as she applied pressure to the knife. "Where's Garrett?"

The guard yelled in pain, clutching at his leg. "He's with your boy toy!" He exclaimed.

Natasha perked a brow and lifted her boot from the knife. "Where?" She asked, canting her head to the side.

The guy just lifted one arm and pointed in the direction behind Natasha, his eyes still down at the knife in his thigh. Natasha looked behind her, then back down to the guard. She crouched down in front of him and, without warning, swiftly pulled the knife from his leg, earning another yell of pain from him. She flipped the knife over and pushed the blunt end of the handle up against the bottom of the guard's chin, lifting his gaze to meet hers. There was anger and deadly intent in her eyes, wound like a coiled serpent ready to strike.

"He better be okay," she warned him. "For all your sakes."

Natasha dropped the knife to the ground and delivered a hard fist to the guard's face, knocking him out. Wheezing quietly, she pushed herself to a stand. She pressed one hand to her side and found some blood on her fingers when she pulled it away. Clenching them into a fist, she turned and headed in the direction the guard had pointed her.

There were several doors in the hallway. Natasha opened each one to find nothing but empty rooms. _That bastard better not have been lying, _she thought as she advanced down the hall. She was running out of rooms to check. The hallway turned right and brought her to one more unopened door. As Natasha wrapped her fingers around the handle, movement overhead caught her attention. Out of a vacant ceiling tile descended a familiar, leather-clad figure. Lady Dust plopped down on the ground behind Natasha, grabbing a fistful of blonde hair and driving Natasha's head against the small window on the door. The glass splintered, and so did the skin on her forehead.

Before Dust could strike again, Natasha planted her boot against the door and pushed backwards with all her strength, sending both herself and Dust toppling to the ground. Natasha rolled off of her and caught her in an arm bar, pressing the back of her thigh down against Dust's throat while she yanked back on her arm. There was a loud, satisfying _pop!_, followed by Dust's pained scream. Natasha released her arm, lifted her leg, and booted Dust across the face.

Then, someone was lifting her to her feet.

Garrett wrapped his metallic fingers around the back of Natasha's vest and launched her forward. She went flying through the air and through the doorway of the room that had, just seconds ago, been closed. She skidded several feet across the floor before coming to a stop, face-down. Pain in her side and her head had her a bit slow to push herself up. She looked over her shoulder to see Dust rising to her feet out in the hallway. Once she was up, she started to stalk forward.

"I'm going to _kill _this bitch!" She exclaimed.

Garrett placed a hand on Dust's shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. "No," he said. "He's going to do that for us."

It was then that Natasha realized Garrett wasn't looking at her. He was looking past her, Natasha realized. At something _behind _her. Confused, Natasha turned her head and followed Garrett's gaze. She saw metal and wires and some strange devices that would explain all of the power siphoning coming to this building. Then, as her eyes traveled up, she saw Steve. He was unconscious and shirtless; bound, upright, to a metal table.

"Steve!" She exclaimed as she pushed herself to a stand. She wheeled around to face Garrett and Dust, still standing outside of the room. "What did you do to him?!" She demanded.

Garrett's scarred face twisted up into a garish smile. "You're about to find out," he said.

He reached forward, grabbed the handle, and closed the door. Natasha could hear the sound of groaning metal just outside the door as Garrett undoubtedly locked her inside. She didn't run to check. Instead, she turned and ran over to Steve.

"Steve…" She said as she began to unfasten his restraints. He didn't respond. "Come on, Rogers. Wake up…"

She removed the wires from his chest and the strange, wire mesh that had been positioned on his head. As she freed him from his last restraint, his body slumped forward. Natasha grunted as she caught him, trying to support his dead weight. "Steve!" She tried again. "Wake… up!"

Suddenly, Steve's body went rigid. Natasha could hear a sharp gasp of air inflate his lungs. He opened his eyes, fingers coming to wrap tightly around her shoulders. He straightened his arms, holding her at arm's length and looking into her eyes. She fought to maintain control of her emotions, but there was a tightness in her throat and a stinging sensation behind her green hues.

"Steve…" She said cautiously. "It's okay. We're getting out of here."

Still, Steve said nothing. He just stared at her in a way that, Natasha suddenly realized, was eerily familiar. It was a look she'd seen before. Not in Steve, but in his best friend, Bucky Barnes.

"Shit…" she breathed. "Steve… what did they do to you?"

Steve didn't respond. Instead, he lifted Natasha into the air and hurled her into a wall.

She hit her back hard, the wind forcing its way out of her lungs. Natasha fell to the floor coughing, but she had little time to catch her breath. Steve was advancing on her with quick, heavy boot steps. Natasha held out a hand toward him, signaling him to stop.

"Steve!" She exclaimed, throwing her head back to look up at him. "This isn't you! You have to fight it!"

The only thing he seemed interested in fighting, unfortunately, was Natasha. He grabbed her by the front of her vest and hoisted her up to her feet and then some. He held her, dangling in the air, with one hand and reared his other fist back, gearing up for a punch. Natasha was quick to kick him in the gut first. Her feet connected with his solar plexus, knocking the air out of him and forcing him to release her as he staggered a few steps backwards. Natasha lifted one arm and fired a Widow's Bite dart at him.

_I'm sorry, Steve. _She thought as the electrode hit him in the chest.

Steve grabbed it, tore it off of him, and threw it to the ground like it was a fly. Then, he was in front of Natasha, throwing punches and forearms in heavy, devastating blows. She dodged them for the most part, deflected what she had to, and retaliated when she could. She needed to get him unconscious and then… figure out some way to get him out of here. She had no idea what Garrett had done to him, but if it was anything like the doozy that had been done on Bucky's brain, it was going to take more than just a swift knock to the head to undo it. Maybe Vision could help.

Steve lifted a knee aimed for Nat's stomach. She deflected it with criss-crossed palms and then immediately drove her right elbow across his face. His head snapped to the side, and blood erupted from a split on his lip, but it didn't stop him. He was emotionless and numb, seemingly unable to even feel pain. He was less man and more weapon. Exactly what Garrett wanted him to be. Steve swung a clothesline at Natasha, but she ducked underneath of it and skirted a few paces away to put some distance between the two of them. She just needed a second to think.

Unfortunately, it didn't look like she was going to get it. Steve reached out and yanked a thin, rubber-coated wire off the machine he'd been hooked up to. He wound both ends of it around his fists, got in close, and brought the wire down against the front of Natasha's neck. His face was right next to hers as he pinned her back to his chest, pulling the wire and cutting off her airflow. She choked and grasped at the wire in an attempt to pull it off of her windpipe, but it was no use. Steve was stronger than she was. He always would be. So, she started driving her elbow back into his ribcage. She hit him once, twice, three times, but he still wouldn't let go. Natasha had to backpedal quickly and shove his back against a wall; then drive her head back into his face to get him to finally release her.

She pushed away from him, spun around, and pulled her gun.

Natasha pointed her weapon at Steve, gasping, hands shaking; eyelids trembling. Blood rolled down the cut on her forehead and over the side of her face. It stung when a few drops made its way into one of her tear-filled eyes. Her throat felt dry and raw as she struggled to regain her breathing. Steve was standing, still as a statue, in front of her. His nose and lip were bleeding, and sweat glistened on his brow and chest. He stared at her, silent and waiting for her to make a move.

"Please…" she said quietly. She took a breath and huffed it out her nose. "Don't make me do this."

Steve blinked; then furrowed his brow. His lips pulled down into a deep frown. "Nat…?" He said. He sounded confused. "What's going on?"

Relief washed over her. She breathed out a heavy sigh, her shoulders sagging as she dropped her hands down to her sides. "Dammit, Rogers," she said. "You really-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Steve rushed her. He tackled into her, knocking her to the ground and landing on top of her. His fingers wrapped around the wrist of her gun hand, raised it, and slammed it against the floor until she released the weapon. It went skidding to the side, several feet across the floor. He raised his other hand, fist poised to strike, but Natasha reached out and grabbed _his _wrist. She exerted every bit of strength she had left to keep his arm away from her. Her muscles trembled, and her breath came and left in ragged, shaky gasps. Unexpected terror gripped her heart, because she knew in that moment that if she didn't do something, Steve was going to kill her.

Suddenly, the door to the room went flying off its hinges in a show of red light and creaking metal. It was pulled outward and into the hallway. Wanda entered the room.

"Little… help… here!" Natasha cried.

Wanda asked no questions. She twisted her hands until she was holding a red ball of energy between them, then she shot it towards Steve. It encapsulated his whole body first, and then traveled its way up to his head. His blue eyes turned red for a second; then the light left, and his body went limp. He slumped down on top of Natasha, unconscious.

Nat's head fell back against the floor, eyes rolling up toward the ceiling and jaw going slack as she breathed a sigh of relief. A few tears slipped out of the corners of her green eyes, rolling down her temples and into her ears. She wrapped her arms around Steve's unconscious body and just buried her face into his shoulder for a second. Then, she was gently pushing him off of her and rolling him onto his back on the floor.

"What happened?" Wanda asked as she cautiously approached.

Natasha shook her head, glancing up at the woman. "Garrett… did something to him. Messed with his mind somehow."

"I will fix it," Wanda assured her. "But we need to leave."

"Where are the others?" Nat asked.

"Making sure Garrett and his people are ready for transport," Wanda said with a grin. "Viz called into S.H.I.E.L.D. They are on their way." She reached down and placed a hand on Nat's shoulder.

"It's over, Natasha."

Nat felt her shoulders slump forward as another wave of relief washed over her. She was suddenly exhausted. Physically, mentally; emotionally, she had nothing left in the tank. She looked down at Steve, and then back up to Wanda. "Can you help me carry him?" She asked.

Wanda simply moved Natasha aside and, in another graceful movement of her hands, brought forth another current of telekinetic energy that wrapped around Steve's body. It lifted him effortlessly into the air and brought him with them as they made their way out into the hall. Natasha saw bound guards, some conscious, some not, as they walked. Wanda, Sam and Vision had made neat and thorough work of getting every single one of them tied and waiting for whatever unfortunate souls were charged with picking them up. Out in the main lobby, an unconscious Garrett and Dust were zip-tied together, back to back, on the floor. Natasha ignored the overwhelming urge to grab a discarded gun and turn them both into Swiss cheese as she passed.

Outside, Vision was waiting with a very concerned Sam.

"What happened to him?" He asked.

Nat shook her head. "I'm not sure." She glanced at Steve and then over to Wanda. "But whatever it is, we're going to fix it."

Wanda nodded.

"Come on," Nat said. "Let's get out of here."

They made their way back to the van, where Steve was gently lowered into the back. Natasha joined him, unable to be bothered to get her injuries looked at or even sit in a regular seat. She just held Steve's head in her lap, smoothing some dark blonde hair away from his face. The world around her just sort of faded away. Sight and sound drowned out, and all she could see was him. All she could hear were his slow, steady breaths. She thanked her lucky stars that they'd found Steve, and she prayed to whatever God that might have been listening that they could fix whatever had been done to him.


	15. Mourning a Memory

Rain came down in buckets outside, creating thick streaks on the windows of the Quinjet as it soared through the air. The storm clouds were thick and seemingly endless. They'd been traveling through them for half an hour now with no end in sight. There was nothing above them but darkness and nothing below them but equally dark sea. Natasha occupied the pilot's seat, hands gripping the controls so tightly her knuckles were white. Every so often their smooth ride was interrupted by a bump of turbulence or a particularly powerful gust of wind. Likewise, the dark sky was lit up by brief flashes of lightning accompanied by the loud roll of thunder. Outside, there was noise and movement. Inside, things were quiet.

Seventy-two hours ago, Natasha and the others found Steve, bound and brainwashed, in an abandoned veterinary clinic near Rochester, England. While rescuing him had been a success, undoing whatever damage Garrett had done to his brain had proven to be a fruitless endeavor. Garrett, who had been turned over to S.H.I.E.L.D., wasn't talking. Unsurprisingly, he was providing no insight as to what he'd done to Steve or how to reverse it. Wanda had tried, Vision had tried; neither one of them were able to succeed. It was incredibly difficult, but perhaps the hardest part was that Natasha's attempts had proven unsuccessful as well. She thought, she'd _hoped, _that if anyone would be able to get through to Steve it would be her, but… That hadn't gone so well.

"_You know who I am?" She'd asked, doing her best to keep her face an impenetrable mask despite the pain of seeing Steve, restrained and sitting against a wall in an isolated room._

_Steve looked at her like she was an idiot. "Of course I know who you are," he said with no lack of bite to his tone. "Natalia Alianova Romanova. Assassin. Russian super spy. You're the enemy."_

"_No," Natasha said. She was trying to be patient and steady, but… it was just so damn hard. "I'm not the enemy. That's just what the guy who screwed with your brain told you."_

_Steve shook his head. "Garrett didn't screw with anything," he said. "He just enlightened me to the truth. Showed me the way things really are."_

"_Steve…" Natasha leaned forward in her seat. There was a foot or so of separation between herself and Steve, something that proved necessary after the last time Steve tried to attack her. It was minimal distance, but it still killed her. Not nearly as much as the look in his blue eyes, though. All of that light, that warmth and character that made Steve who he was, had been erased completely. Now there was just a cold, hard soldier. It was a look Natasha was eerily familiar with. It was the face that used to stare back at her every time she looked in a mirror._

"_I know you're in there," she said._

_Steve leaned back in his seat and fixed Natasha with an amused grin. "Oh?" He said. "And how do you know that?"_

"_Because you're Steve Rogers," she said simply. "You're not just 'some guy'. You've had douche bags trying to convert you to their wack job ideals longer than most people have been alive, and it's never worked before. Because you're true to your beliefs. You're loyal and good and… unbelievably stubborn. You wouldn't just roll over and accept what some guy tells you. You'd fight, and I __**know **__you're in there right now. Fighting."_

It'd been a hell of a speech. At least, Natasha had thought so. Apparently, Steve didn't share that opinion. It hadn't done a damn thing to bring him, the _real _him back to the surface. So, with all of their other options exhausted, Natasha had decided to call in a favor. It felt wrong, especially so soon after the last one they'd called in, but she didn't know what other choice she had. She felt like the longer Steve went on like this, the further away he slipped, and the less chance they had of ever getting him back. It was a pain unlike anything Natasha had ever felt. Watching someone she cared for, someone she loved, slipping away from her right in front of her very eyes was… Well, it wasn't something she thought she could bear.

So, here she was, piloting the Quinjet through a storm with a doped up Captain America shackled in the back like some high-profile killer, heading back to Wakanda. She felt incredibly guilty for the use of the drugs and the handcuffs, but she had to keep Steve restrained and sedated so she could focus on getting them safely to Wakanda. It was just the two of them, after all.

Despite the state of emergency they'd found themselves in, Natasha hadn't forgotten that Wakanda was a secretive nation. She was sure that T'Challa would welcome the other heroes with open arms, but she didn't want to abuse the kindness he had shown them. So, she'd opted to make the trip with Steve alone, leaving Sam, Wanda and Vision behind. No one had been particularly fond of the idea, but they'd understood the necessity of it all. It was their shared hope that, if anyone could fix this, it would be Shuri and her team of incredibly skilled and advanced doctors and scientists. They were, after all, doing the exact same thing for Bucky.

Natasha was surprised to find out, upon finally arriving in Wakanda, that Bucky was no longer in the main city. In the months since their departure, the man formerly known as the Winter Soldier had woken up from stasis, apparently free of the mind control he'd been subjected to. However, feeling some need for penance, Bucky had decided to isolate himself in a remote area on the outskirts of the kingdom. He'd traded in his guns and his metal arm for tents and goats. Natasha wondered, and worried, what all that might mean for Steve. Would it take months for him, too? If it worked, what kind of toll would all of this take on him? The idea of him leaving, isolating himself like Bucky was doing was painful to think about. She sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that.

With the help of T'Challa and his Dora Milaje guard, they got Steve transported up to the medical wing, where Shuri could begin doing an initial diagnostic. Hopefully, she would be able to pinpoint exactly what had been done to Steve and reverse it. Hopefully, she would be able to do it all with minimal damage to Steve and his psyche. Natasha wasn't feeling too hopeful at the moment, though. She knew all too well how heavily the crimes of one's past could weigh on a person. She still struggled with that almost every day herself.

Folding her arms across her chest, Natasha tentatively approached the small, hovering table that Steve was fastened to. He was awake now, though groggy. Still, that didn't stop his sour mood from bubbling to the surface. Natasha couldn't really blame him, though. He'd just spent the last week or so of his life bound or handcuffed to one thing or another. She looked down at him, a sympathetic look on her face.

"I'm sorry, Steve." She said softly. "I hate every second of this."

"Hmm." Steve made a sound, then cleared his throat and smiled a little. "And here I thought you were pretty fond of the whole 'bound and tortured' thing."

Nat's brows pinched together, a pained and frustrated expression forming on her face. "I just want you back." Dropping her arms, she reached down and gently placed her hand on the side of his face. To her surprise, he didn't try to pull away from it. He just held her gaze, his blue eyes firm and maybe even a bit confused.

"I'd spend every day just… sitting at coffee shops and being bored out of my damn mind if it meant never having to do something like this again." She confided quietly, her voice a raspy whisper. "I know that doesn't mean a damn thing to you right now, but… I just want you to know that. I don't…" She paused, sniffling a bit. She was surprised by the painful tightness that suddenly welled up inside of her chest.

"I don't want to do this anymore," she finished.

She pulled away quickly as the sudden urge to just… run away from all this fell over her. To run away from the look on Steve's face; whatever response might have been brewing in his head. To run away from her own feelings and the surprise they brought. To run away from the fear that those feelings might not even matter. She turned around and walked briskly away from the table, passing Shuri as she went.

"What...?" Shuri began, clearly confused. "Where are you going? Don't you want to-"

"I'll be back," Natasha said. "I just need some air."

It was a partial truth. Natasha did, in fact, need some air. She just… didn't know if she'd actually be coming back any time soon. There was no telling how long this would take. There was no telling if it would even work, and she didn't think she could be around if and when it was discovered that it would not, indeed, work. So, she roamed. She was bone tired and still sore from the encounter at the clinic, but she couldn't fathom resting right now. It felt wrong somehow. She did, at least, take a moment to clean up a bit. T'Challa's people were kind enough to give her some clean clothes to change into. Natasha's clothes were swapped out for some local attire. She was given a long, deep green sleeveless dress with geometric black stitching that formed large, diamond-shapes up and down the bodice. It was quite lovely and surprisingly comfortable and breathable. A hell of a lot better than the combat gear Natasha had arrived in.

After changing, Natasha decided to see if the rumors were true. She decided to see if there really was a "White Wolf" hiding out among the goats. She made the journey on foot, deciding the walk would be best to waste time and maybe clear her head a little. She traveled through the dense, crowded streets around the capital and onward. Things became less and less populated the further away from the main hub of the city she went. She traveled through the outskirts, through the suburbs and farmlands, and finally found herself traversing through faint jungle paths. She followed the sound of flowing water, heading downriver to where the tributary flowed into a large lake.

On the bank of the lake, glistening skyscrapers were traded for small, clay and adobe huts with straw thatch roofs. There were only a couple of them sprinkled along the water's edge and not much else to speak of. Other than the goats, of course, roaming a bit closer to the edge of the jungle. It was a quiet and peaceful place. A great location to come to, to clear one's head, she thought. The perfect place to be left alone, and here she was… disturbing it.

As if sensing her presence, the draping curtain behind the doorway of one of the huts began to move. It was pushed aside, and out of it walked Bucky. He was dressed in little more than blankets and robes, his left arm missing. He looked, for all intents and purposes, like some hippie camping out at the Burning Man festival, and yet the sight of him still pulled a bit of anxiety from Natasha. There would always be the memory of the bullet— or, rather, two bullets now— he'd put in her. There would always be the kill count, and the fear that he might not really be the man he claimed to be; the man many people had tried very hard to get him back to being. Yet, even as she thought that, she knew it was wrong, because if… _when_ she got Steve back, Natasha knew she wouldn't have that same fear.

"Natasha?"

The confusion on Bucky's face was evident. As his eyes roamed around and he saw she was alone, that confusion started to turn to fear. He returned his gaze to her face. "What happened?" He asked immediately.

"Nice to see you, too." She said in that smooth tone of hers, but it lacked its usual wit. The facade fell rather quickly as a sigh left her. Natasha settled herself onto a crude wooden chair and folded her hands neatly in her lap. With no real room or desire for small talk, she had no choice but to delve right into the story of what happened to Steve.

"It took Hydra months to turn me," Bucky said when Natasha was finished. He'd taken a seat across from her and was staring at her with hard concentration. He was concerned. He had every right to be.

"I fought. I can guarantee you that Steve fought, too. Whatever that Garrett guy did to him, it must have been more physical than anything else."

Natasha nodded her agreement. There didn't seem to be any trigger words or anything like that with Steve. It was like someone had physically gone inside his brain and flipped all the right switches to make him into the numb, mindless soldier that he was. The thought had Natasha folding her arms across her chest, hugging herself in a way.

"He didn't even flinch when I hit him with one of my Widow darts," she recollected aloud. "It was like he couldn't even feel pain."

"This could be a good thing," Bucky surprised her by saying. "I mean, think about it. If you slap some wallpaper up on a wall, you can always tear it back down."

"Nobody uses wallpaper anymore, Barnes." Natasha commented dryly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Not the point. The point is a physical change can be undone a lot easier than a mental change. Hydra didn't just rewire my brain. They broke my spirit. That's a hell of a lot harder thing to fix."

Natasha felt a pang of sympathy for Bucky. It overshadowed any hope she might have been trying to feel for Steve. Bucky seemed to sense that. He gave Natasha a small, close-lipped smile.

"Anyway," he said, "you came to the right place. If anyone can help Steve, it's here."

Natasha willed herself to mirror Bucky's smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. It was sad and hollow. Like his. "Will you come back with me?" She asked him. "Seeing you, it… it might help him."

That question pulled some nervousness from Bucky. He stood up from his seat and began to pace a few steps back and forth. He reached up to scratch the back of his head. "I… I dunno." He said, glancing over at Natasha briefly. "I haven't been awake that long. I still don't… fully trust myself, and being back there, in a situation like that?"

He looked at her again, brows taking an apologetic slant.

"I understand." She said calmly.

"Did you… come here alone?" Bucky asked.

Natasha nodded.

Bucky seemed to think about that for a moment. An unexpected huff of laughter escaped his nostrils, a wry grin forming on his face. "So, he finally got his head out of his ass, huh?" He chuckled again. "Figures he'd find some way to screw it up."

Natasha chuckled, despite herself. She looked down at her hands for a moment before slowly rising to her feet once more. She lifted her gaze to meet Bucky's and maintained the small smile on her face. "I should head back," she said. "Before it gets dark."

She allowed her eyes to travel out towards the lake for a moment, watching the way the sun bounced off the water's surface. It was nice out here. Natasha could see why Bucky was reluctant to leave. After a moment, she turned back towards him.

"I'm glad you're doing okay," she told him.

Bucky placed a hand on her shoulder. "Steve's gonna be okay, too." He assured her.

Nat nodded. "I know," she said with a confidence she did not feel. She smiled, patted his hand, and took her leave. As she headed for the treeline, she cast one last look over her shoulder and saw Bucky staring out across the water. Natasha was disappointed that he wouldn't be joining her on the journey back to the capital, but she had to respect his decision. She couldn't imagine what he'd been through and what he was still going through. She just hoped that he was right and that Steve really _would _be okay. Because if he wasn't, and if there was something Bucky could've done to help… Natasha wasn't sure she'd be able to forgive that as easily as she forgave the pair of bullets Bucky put in her.

It was dark by the time Natasha got back to the capital. She made the tired climb up the tower of the research building, alone and silent and hoping that some good news was waiting for her by the time she finished her ascent. What she found was Shuri recently exiting one of the labs, a tablet of some sort in her hand and an intensely concentrated look on her face. She didn't even seem to notice Natasha standing there at first. It wasn't until the Black Widow made a show of clearing her throat that the young genius looked up from her device, a surprised expression on her face.

"Natasha!" Shuri exclaimed. "We tried finding you earlier."

That immediately hat Nat's alarms going off. "Why?" She asked. "Is everything alright?"

Shuri tilted her head back and forth, as if weighing something. "Well, I was able to discover the source of the Captain's… condition." She said. "It was a mixture of nanite technology and brain wave isolation."

"How the hell did Garrett get his hands on nanite tech?" Natasha wondered aloud.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Shuri replied.

"Can you fix it?"

Shuri nodded. "Yes. I have a system that is removing the nanites as we speak. Unfortunately, it will take a bit more time to find the proper frequencies to use to reverse the brain wave alterations. The wrong combinations could result in… many adverse effects."

"But you can do it…" Natasha surmised. "You can fix him?"

"I believe so, yes. But it will take time." She was quick to add. "And there will be a certain recovery period. He may be a bit forgetful of some things. He will need someone there to help him. Someone who knows him and can remind him of all the things that may be difficult to remember."

Her eyes seemed to be taking stock of Natasha, as if trying to figure out whether or not she was up to the task. Natasha was a little offended by the suspicion, but she could understand its source. She wasn't exactly the picture of perfect health, herself. She was run down in more ways than she could count. She felt like she could barely keep her own head on straight right now, let alone help Steve keep his. She took a deep breath and release it in a heavy sigh.

"I'll be fine," Natasha said, answering Shuri's unspoken question. "I just… need a decent night's sleep. Got anything for that?"

The young woman smiled a little. "Just the thing," she said. "I'll have it sent to your room. Now, _go _get some sleep. The Captain is in good hands, I assure you."

Natasha knew without a fraction of a doubt that, that was true. She trusted Shuri, T'Challa, and their people wholeheartedly. She had every bit of faith in not only their ability to help Steve but in their willingness to help him as well. There was a great comfort in the fact that not only _could _they help him, but they _wanted _to help him, too. That was a great knowledge to have. So, with that in mind, Natasha decided to heed Shuri's advice and get some sleep. She would've liked to see Steve one more time before she did so, but Shuri informed her that her machines were still in the process of extracting the nanites from his brain. It was a very careful and delicate process, and the last thing Natasha wanted to do was screw it up. She headed to her room, instead.

As tired as she was, and even with the help of the strange, strongly-scented tea Shuri sent to her room, Nat couldn't fall asleep right away. She was too preoccupied over her worry about Steve and the profound absence she felt in the wake of all of this. They hadn't shared a bed, so it wasn't even the physical aspect of not having him there that bothered her. It was the idea that Steve, his psyche, his personality, what made him, _him, _was gone that had her feeling so… alone. The fact that some other mentality had been forced to the surface to take the place of the man she knew and cared for so much was deeply unsettling. To have to stand face-to-face with him, look him in the eye and not see any of the familiarity looking back at her was like a knife to the heart. And fighting him? Pointing a gun at his chest and seeing the deadly intent in his eyes? Well, that alone was enough to kill her.

Natasha squeezed her eyes shut and rolled onto her side, curling up on her bed in the darkness of her room. A few warm, silent tears slipped out from beneath her eyelids, rolling over the bridge of her nose and plopping quietly onto the pillow beneath her. The memory of standing there with her gun trained on him, barely being able to hold it because her hands were shaking so bad with the fear that she might _actually _have to shoot him… it was almost too much for her. She tried to will it out of her brain and to think of something else instead. Like the cafe or their walk through London or… those moments on the ferris wheel right before everything had gone to shit. She tried to focus on those memories instead. The happy ones. The ones that made her realize just how badly she wanted something she had never really considered wanting before.

A life.

A life _with _someone. A life where she didn't have to run or look over her shoulder every day. Where she didn't have to worry about where they would go next, if they would be safe; a life where she didn't have to be afraid that she wouldn't ever get to talk to Steve, the _real _Steve again, and tell him how she felt about him. How damn much she loved him. Natasha wasn't even sure when it happened. She couldn't pinpoint an exact moment. Parts of her felt like it was a feeling that had been there forever, as natural as the air she breathed. She knew it was a ridiculous thought, but it was oddly comforting at the same time. Steve, somehow, had become this constant in her life. Someone who felt like she'd known forever and would continue to know forever. Now, it felt like that someone was gone, and Natasha didn't know what to do about it.

Eventually, _finally, _she drifted off to sleep.

It was hard to say how long she slept. It was still dark in her room when movement and the sound of her door opening pulled her from her slumber. Even in sleep, Natasha was trained to be astute and cautious. So, when she opened her eyes, her immediate, survival instinct took over. She reached under her pillow, pulled her gun out, and sat up quickly in bed. She trained her weapon towards the door, cocking it. The _click _of the weapon was loud in the near-silence of the room.

"Who's there?" She asked sharply, not an ounce of grogginess in her voice. After a moment, the lights flicked on.

And for the second time that week, Natasha found herself pointing a gun at Steve Rogers.


	16. Awakening

"Captain? Captain. Steve… can you hear me?"

Steve's eyes batted open. There was a dull, blue-white light above him that seemed to float in mid-air and move on its own. He could hear faint beeps and quiet whirrings. It was a bit cold, he realized as an involuntary shudder passed through him. He blinked a few times and slid his gaze to the side, where a familiar face came into view.

"Princess… Shuri?" He blinked again, seemingly having a hard time believing his own eyes.

The Wakandan Princess smiled as a small jitter of excitement passed through her. She clutched a tablet close to her chest and wiggled happily from where she stood next to the small observation table Steve was laid out upon.

"How are you feeling?" Shuri asked.

The question brought forth a rush of thought and memory that had Steve feeling… not so great. Because, suddenly, he could remember. Images of the London Eye and rushing out to meet Garrett head-on in his helicopter flooded into Steve's mind. He remembered a brief and unsuccessful fight, and Garrett sticking some kind of needle in his neck and injecting him with something. Then, there had been nothing but darkness until he woke up to find himself strapped to a table with all sorts of wires attached to him.

Steve remembered pain. A lot of it. His head had felt like it was being ripped open at the seams with no end in sight. Garrett had… done something to him. Put something in his brain and infiltrated his mind. He'd flipped some kind of switch that had left Steve completely powerless. The worst part was… he remembered the whole thing. He remembered being trapped inside his own mind, his own body; watching everything transpiring before him and being unable to stop it. He remembered Natasha…

Steve groaned and reached up to touch his forehead. "What the hell happened to me?"

He probably shouldn't have even asked. Shuri launched into some very scientific explanation about nanites and temporal lobes and gamma waves that Steve had zero hope of understanding. The general gist seemed to be that Garrett had implanted something in Steve's mind and then used it to alter the way his mind worked. Long story short, it was all gone now. Steve's brain was his own once again, but there would probably be some temporary side effects. Headaches, mostly; maybe some bouts of confusion, but Shuri seemed to think he'd be just fine.

T'Challa, who must have gotten a call from his sister that Steve had woken up because he arrived shortly after, seemed to share Shuri's thoughts. "You are no normal man," T'Challa pointed out. "You've overcome far more than most. I am certain you can overcome this as well."

"Just as long as you don't mind clucking like a chicken every time it rains," Shuri teased.

"What?" Steve looked at her, briefly worried until he saw the grin on her face.

"Shuri," T'Challa scolded. He turned his gaze to Steve. "You'll have to excuse my sister. She seems to have the most ill-timed humor in all of Wakanda."

"Or maybe it is just my brother is too _old _to know what is funny." Shuri commented.

Steve chuckled quietly and shook his head. "Well, regardless… I can't thank you enough for coming through and helping me. Again."

"Of course," T'Challa said with a nod. "Though I am _pretty _sure Miss Romanoff would have gotten you help one way or another."

"Where, uh… where is Natasha?" Steve asked.

"Finally resting, I hope." T'Challa said. "You could stand to do the same. Perhaps you should wait until morning to see her…"

"_Or," _Shuri chimed in, "_perhaps _you should go see her now." She cast a brief look at T'Challa before returning her attention to Steve, a small smile on her face. "I'm sure she will be _most _happy to see you back to your old self again."

Steve wasn't even sure what time it was. It was still night. He could tell that much by looking out the big window in the lab. Maybe T'Challa was right. Maybe he should just let Natasha rest, but… The image of her shaking hands and glistening eyes as she pointed her gun at him was like a ghost haunting his mind. And the feel of her… struggling against him as he held that wire to her neck. God, Steve wished he couldn't remember any of that. He'd never felt worse about something in his entire life. He just hoped that Natasha would understand. He hoped she would forgive him. And the only way to earn that forgiveness was to go talk to her. So, he found out where her room was and headed that way.

The halls were dimly lit, quiet and empty. Even Steve's near-silent steps seemed to echo off the walls and ceilings. He was barefoot, and the floor was a bit cold against his bare skin, but he found it was a welcome sensation. Each step sort of helped jolt him further into wakefulness. He was still dressed in the loosely fitting black pants and shirt that he'd woken up in. They were like an odd mix between hospital clothes and pajamas, but he didn't exactly want to take the time to change, so… here he was. He was wondering what he should say to Nat. He was wondering if he should say anything to her at all, or if he should just let her sleep. Steve told himself that if he could just peek in on her and make sure she was okay, that would satisfy him. But he should've known better.

Because he did peek in; he _did _see her sleeping, and it created a wave of pain and relief that washed all over him. But it wasn't enough. There was this maddening push to turn the other way and walk out, accompanied by an even more maddening pull to go in there and scoop her into his arms and never let her go. He opened the door a little further and slipped inside.

Then, there was movement. Natasha, who apparently hadn't been sleeping as soundly as she appeared, sat up in bed and in one deft movement, slid a gun out from beneath her pillow. The lights flicked on in quick and bright suddenness, leaving Steve temporarily blinded and holding a hand up in front of his face to help block some of that light from his sensitive eyes. When he could see enough to lower his hand, he saw Natasha sitting in bed pointing her gun at him. The knee-jerk reaction was understandable, but the fact that she didn't lower the weapon right away cut Steve to the core.

"Nat…" he said, surprised at how tight his throat was.

"Steve?" Natasha sounded unsure. She lowered her finger from the trigger, but she kept a firm hold on the gun. The last time she thought she had the real Steve standing in front of her, she'd learned the hard way that she was mistaken.

"I… I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you up. I just…"

His words trailed off. He wasn't really sure what to say or do.

Natasha was quiet. She tilted her head to the side and stared at him, listening. Listening to silence. There were no alarms blaring. No shouts. If brainwashed Steve had somehow broken out of the medical wing before he was supposed to, no one was doing anything about it. That led Natasha to believe, to hope…

"Is it…" her voice went quiet. She tried to quell the hopefulness that was rising inside of her. She lowered her gun. "Is it really you?"

The reservation on Natasha's face and in her voice was painful. It was made even more painful due to the fact that Steve could clearly remember the cause for this fear he was seeing now. Because he had deceived her. Made her believe it was really him when it wasn't, and even though he _knew _that, that hadn't _really _been him, he couldn't help but to feel every bit of the blame and guilt for it. It'd been his hands that hurt her. No one else's. Regret settled like a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have come here. Not so soon after waking up. His gaze fell to the floor.

"Natasha," he practically whispered. "I'm so s-"

Natasha sprang from her bed with the speed and grace of a gazelle. Her gun was forgotten, discarded somewhere among the sheets, and suddenly she was there. She was right there, nearly bowling him over as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his chest. She squeezed Steve as tightly as she could and squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. That familiar sting was there, threatening to make tears well up and spill over. The feeling only intensified when she felt Steve's stiff body relax, and his arms wrapped firmly around her.

The relief that Steve felt was palpable. It flooded over him and washed through his bloodstream. It relaxed his muscles and had him dipping his chin so he could press his lips into the crown of Natasha's head. He closed his eyes and released a heavy, heavy sigh. They stood like that for what seemed like a long time yet not nearly long enough. Natasha was quiet and still. Steve was, too. He knew there were a lot of things that needed saying, but he couldn't think of a single word to start it off. There was just… too much. Too much to unload. Too much to apologize for. He'd never be able to cover it all. But he knew he had to try.

So, reluctantly, Steve loosened his grip, took a half step back, and looked down at her.

"Nat," he began. "I-"

"I love you." Natasha said.

Steve stopped, his mouth hanging slightly open and his brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Natasha's eyelids fluttered as a nervous breath left her. She hadn't really… planned this. It'd just sort of blurted out of her without much warning. Now, she knew she had to follow it all up, and talking about her feelings wasn't exactly her strong suit. Her green eyes glanced downward for a moment.

"I don't know," she said quietly, "when or how long or…" She paused, swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to look back up at him. There was pain glistening in her eyes.

"I thought I lost you. When the helicopter went down. When we couldn't find you for two days. And then… and then I found you but I didn't _really _find you and… I felt like I was watching you slip away from me. You were right there in front of me, but you _weren't _there…"

Her breath hitched as her emotions started getting the best of her. Natasha was forced to stop and take a deep, shaky breath in a vain attempt to keep her composure. Her eyes were stinging much more now, and though no tears had actually fallen, thy were very clearly glistening in her green eyes.

"I know I shouldn't have waited for something like this to happen before I… And it isn't like this is _why_. I just…"

"Nat…"

Steve said gently. He slid his hands up to rest on the tops of her shoulders, steadying her and grounding her as he felt her start to drift. Their gazes met, and all that familiar warmth was there in his eyes. It was on the small smile he wore, too. Steve slid his hands up again, taking her face and gently stroking his thumbs along her cheeks. There was a healing cut on her forehead, and a thin pink line that ran across the front of her throat. It physically pained Steve to see those things, knowing what had caused them, but he couldn't focus on them too hard. Not with those eyes, staring up at him the way they were, and the sound of Natasha's shallow breaths swirling all around him.

So, he pulled her close, and he kissed her. He emptied every bit of himself into her lips, drowning and breathing, coming alive and dying all at once. Passion ignited around them like a blast furnace and warmed their hearts and bodies alike. Steve felt his soul dance and then surrender inside of him, and he knew the maddening sensation of complete and total love. He felt its excitement and its pain and knew that it would never go away. It would change them for the rest of their lives, and he was very, very much okay with that.

When his lungs started to burn, Steve reluctantly broke the kiss. He opened his eyes and looked down to see Natasha slowly opening hers. A burst of color had formed in her pale cheeks.

"I love you, Natasha." He said, his deep voice still a bit breathless and husky. "And I am… _so _sorry for all of this. For leaving you. For hurting you…"

Nat shook her head, lips pressed together in a firm line. "No," she said. "That wasn't you."

"I know, but… I couldn't do anything to stop it." Steve glanced briefly at her throat once more. "Nat, I could've killed you."

"That's debatable…" Natasha said, trying some of her ill-timed humor on for size. She was feeling surprisingly self-conscious about the fading injuries she still sported. She didn't want to think about that. She didn't want _Steve _to think about that. She placed a hand on his face and gently pulled his gaze back to meet hers.

"You're back now," she said softly. "You're here, _really _here, and that's all that matters." Natasha stepped forward to hug him once more. "And we're never going to do that again."

"We're never going to do that again," Steve agreed. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed. He'd just started to close his eyes when he felt Natasha's grip loosen and her start to step back again.

She wordlessly pulled him over to the bed. He needed no direction. He was pretty much putty in her hands at this point. Natasha moved the gun to the floor with a bit of a sheepish look, and then slid underneath the blankets once more. She pulled Steve to follow, and when he settled in beside her, she curled up against him. One arm wrapped around his waist, and her head came to rest on his shoulder. He slid an arm beneath her and pressed a hand to her back, holding her securely against him. He felt himself settle, like his body was a two-ton weight finally able to just… rest. He realized how tired he'd been. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, spiritually. He was just… drained from all of this. This whole endeavor had taken damn near everything out of him. Steve was just glad it was over.

In the quiet darkness of the room, Natasha filled Steve in on the details of his rescue. She told him how Sam, Wanda and Vision had rallied to help find him. She told him that Garrett, Dust, and every one of their hired goons had been apprehended and were going to be spending a lot of time in a S.H.I.E.L.D. holding facility. She didn't need to relive the details of her fight with Steve, though. Even if he didn't remember every moment of it, she didn't think it was something he needed to hear. It didn't matter. What was important was that they'd found him, and that he was going to be okay now. When she was finished, Natasha quickly lifted her head from Steve's chest, as if suddenly remembering something.

"Bucky." She said.

"What?" Steve furrowed his brow in worry.

"He's awake," she continued. "Just recently, from the sounds of it. He's… camping out by some lake on the outskirts of the city."

Now Steve was even more worried. That didn't sound like Bucky at all. "Is he alright?" He asked.

Natasha shrugged one shoulder. "Hard to tell," she replied. "He seems…" she paused, trying to think of the right word. "Docile? But he was worried that coming back and seeing you… like that… might trigger something. He doesn't seem to trust himself."

"Hm…" Steve made a sound. He could kind of relate to that feeling. "Sounds like I'll have to pay him a visit, then." In the morning, though. He had no intention of leaving Natasha any time soon.

Steve still felt the heavy weight of guilt on his chest for what he'd done to her. He doubted it was something that would ever really go away. He tried not to think too much about it, though. He tried not to let it affect him or the way he felt about Natasha or anything that was going on between them now. He couldn't let it drive a wedge between them. Steve needed Natasha. He needed her close, and judging by the way she was holding onto him, it seemed like she might need the same thing. But every time he closed his eyes, he could see that fight. He could see Natasha's body being hurled across the room. He could see her pinned beneath him on the floor, fighting him. He could see fear in her eyes. He'd hurt the one person he cared the most about in this world, and he wasn't quite sure how to handle all that.

For right now, though, it seemed like he didn't have to.


	17. A Good Challenge

Waking up next to someone wasn't something that Steve was used to. Or Natasha, for that matter. Even though they'd been exploring their "relationship" for a while now, Steve was either too much of a gentleman or too scared to spend the night with Natasha. Maybe it was a little bit of both. It wasn't like she'd been pushing for it too hard, either. Nat was used to keeping people at arm's length, both for her protection and theirs. She'd been intimidated by her feelings for Steve and even more intimidated to learn that he shared those feelings. Now, though… Now, things were different.

Natasha had slept better than she could remember sleeping in… well, longer than she cared to admit. And even though this was all new, the warm weight beside her felt familiar. Like she'd woken up to it a thousand times already. When she opened her eyes to see Steve lightly dozing beside her, it stirred a strange, warm feeling inside of her. It was like being shot in the chest with a burst of sunlight, but she wouldn't be caught dead telling anybody that. Instead, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek.

The Captain didn't really have a great relationship with sleep. Not since waking up to find that he'd been sleeping on ice for six decades. There was always that fear that if he slept too hard, it would happen again. He knew it was ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. The thought of losing another lifetime and all the people in it was pretty terrifying. Despite all this, Steve couldn't deny the comfort he felt with Natasha beside him. Her arms wrapped around him seemed to serve as an anchor, keeping him grounded and letting him know that everything was alright. Everything he needed was right there, and it would still be there when he opened his eyes.

The drugs that were still phasing out of his system probably didn't hurt, either.

Regardless, when sunlight started slipping through the bedroom windows, Steve's internal clock had started chiming. He was coming to the surface, not quite awake but not quite asleep, when he felt the soft pressure on his cheek and the brush of hair against his ear. He slowly batted his blue eyes open, inhaling a deep, cleansing breath as he did so. The world came into view, and he rolled his head to the side to see familiar green eyes and the half-smirk that accompanied them. The sight caused an involuntary reaction of his own lips curling up into a small, sleepy smile.

"Good morning," he said, his voice still gravely from sleep.

"Good morning." Natasha replied in her slightly raspy tone. She rested her hand on his chest and then lowered her chin to rest on top of her knuckles, peering up at him with wide eyes that contained a maddening mix of complete innocence and pure mischief.

"If we're going to keep bunking together," she said, "we're going to have to do something about that snoring."

Steve furrowed his brow and lifted his head off the pillow to look down at Natasha. It didn't take a genius to figure out she was joking. "Are you always this funny first thing in the morning?" He asked with no shortage of sarcasm.

Natasha shrugged one shoulder. "I dunno," she said. "Guess we'll find out." Her eyes roamed his face, and her expression fell into something soft and serious.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

The question prompted Steve to take stock of his current situation. There was a dull ache between his eyes that made him feel like he needed to chug a gallon of water… or coffee. Or both. Other than that, he felt okay physically. It was his mind that was a bit uncertain. There were a lot of memories and emotions quietly swirling just beneath the surface, and it felt like any one of them could come bubbling to the top at any moment. He wasn't quite sure how to handle all that, let alone describe it.

"Like I shouldn't have jumped into that helicopter." He admitted.

"Mm," Natasha made a sound and nodded. "Well, I could've told you that."

Steve slid an arm beneath her and pulled her tightly against him, wrapping her up in something like a half-hug for a few moments. He brushed his fingers through Nat's short blonde hair and just stared up at the ceiling. He knew he they would need to get up soon. They needed to see T'Challa and Shuri and, once again, thank them for their help, and Steve needed to see Bucky. He had a lot of questions for his old friend. He wasn't quite ready yet, though. There was still a bit of heaviness in the air; things that needed clearing.

"Nat…" he began.

Natasha lifted her head from Steve's chest, causing his hand to fall away from her hair. She pressed down on the hand on his chest so she could rise into a half-sit. She looked down at him with a somewhat surprising firmness in her eyes.

"Don't." She said with that same firmness.

Steve sat up as well, sliding up and resting his back against the wall behind him. Before he could breathe another word, Natasha was already speaking.

"I know you're sorry," she said. "Don't you think I'm sorry, too? I pointed a _gun _at your chest, Steve. _Twice._ But we can't keep… going around this circle. If we do that, then Garrett wins, and I've _really _had enough of that guy winning."

Steve furrowed his brow. His lips pulled down into a slight frown as he thought about what Natasha said. He knew she had a point. He knew that, that fight had been just as difficult for her as it had been for him. Maybe even more so. She _had _been in control of her own body, and she'd known exactly what she was doing when she pulled her gun on him. Still, none of that erased the deep ache in his chest when he thought about what he'd done. He could still see that damn wire in his hands…

"Steve." Natasha curled her fingers beneath his bearded chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "I forgive you, okay?" She didn't even think there was anything to forgive, but she had a hunch that maybe he needed to hear that. She didn't know how much it would help. She didn't know if it would make him forgive himself and move on, but maybe it would take one less thing off his plate. One less thing for him to worry about.

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was brief but firm, wordlessly sealing the deal on this whole conversation. Then, she gently slid out from beneath the blankets and rose to stand beside the bed, stretching her arms above her head and listening to the satisfying pop in her shoulders and back. Steve watched her for a few moments before ultimately deciding to just let the matter drop and get out of bed. It would be rude to keep theirs hosts waiting. Especially when those hosts were royalty.

Not long later, after finding some showers and procuring some clean clothes, Steve and Natasha met up with T'Challa and Shuri. The siblings were discussing upgrades to Wakanda's defenses while picking over some plates of fresh fruits and bread, but they promptly quieted their debate upon the arrival of their guests. Smiles, hugs and handshakes were exchanged, as well as another round of thank you's from both Steve and Natasha. Neither one of them felt like they would ever be able to truly express proper gratitude for everything that had been done for them, but they were sure as hell going to try.

While Shuri did a brief check on Steve to make sure everything was on the up-and-up, Natasha caught T'Challa up on everything that had been happening since their last visit. The Wakandan King was dismayed to hear that things were still hard for the heroes. They didn't deserve the treatment they'd been receiving from their own country. It was unfair.

"But," T'Challa informed her, "you will always find safe harbor here. You are always welcome in Wakanda."

"You might not say that next time one of us shows up asking you to… I dunno, reattach a severed foot." Steve said as he entered the room, shrugging back into his shirt.

Shuri, who was following behind, released a chuckle. "Oh, please," she said. "I hope you would give me a bigger challenge than that!"

"How is he?" Natasha asked.

"Everything looks good," Shuri informed them. "I give the Captain a clean bill of health."

The news was a welcome relief to Natasha, who had been silently worrying throughout her whole conversation with T'Challa. She supposed she shouldn't have been so anxious about it, though. Steve was no normal man. If anyone could bounce back from something like this, it was him. What's more, he had the best minds and technology helping him. He'd been in good hands from the start. Still, it was good to hear that he was going to be alright.

Steve was just as relieved. Having your brain rewired wasn't exactly a five-star experience, and he didn't want to have to re-experience it ever again. Which reminded him, he needed to go see Bucky. He couldn't put it off any longer. He felt guilty enough for putting it off as long as he had. He apologized to Shuri and T'Challa for having to slip away, but they both understood his reasoning. Natasha walked with him out of the room, but she announced she would be staying behind while Steve made the trek out to see his friend.

"He needs to see you," she told him. "Alone. And I think maybe you need that, too."

Steve couldn't argue with that logic. He nodded as he reached forward to brush a strand of hair behind Natasha's ear. She was looking particularly lovely in some traditional Wakandan garb. "And what are you going to do while I'm gone?" He asked.

Natasha shrugged one shoulder. "I'm sure there are plenty of trinkets in that weapons lab to keep me occupied," she said with a smirk.

It was hard to tell whether or not she was being serious, but Steve knew that, if she was, Shuri would be more than happy to show off her latest designs. He chuckled quietly and shook his head a few times. He slid his hand to the back of Natasha's neck and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Just try not to blow anything up," he said as he released her. "I don't think we could foot the bill."

"Speak for yourself." Nat said with a wink. Then, she went back in to join Shuri and T'Challa while Steve made his way out.

It was a warm and sunny morning, and people were already bustling about the streets of the city. Steve took his time as he walked. He wanted to take in his surroundings and feel out his own physical and mental state, but he was also feeling a little apprehensive about seeing Bucky. He wasn't quite sure why. Maybe a part of him felt a little disappointed in the fact that his friend had opted to stay out in his isolation rather than return with Natasha yesterday. Maybe he was worried that Bucky might not really be Bucky after all. After everything that had been done to him, it wasn't like Steve could just expect him to be the confident, sarcastic kid from their youth. Could any of them really expect to be unchanged by all of the things they went through?

Steve realized that he was surrounded by people whom life had dealt a pretty rough hand. The people he cared most about in this world were people who had been most harmed by it. They had been subjected to the horrors of humanity and were expected to, what? Come out the other side, better from all of it? Steve now knew first hand what it was like to have his brain tampered with. He wasn't sure he would ever recover from that. He wasn't sure he would ever not feel the pain and the fear caused by those moments, and his situation had only lasted a matter of days. Bucky had been controlled for years. Natasha, too, in her own way. Instead of a childhood, she'd had years of constant boot camp. Instead of getting to be a little girl, she'd gotten to be a soldier. A tool, something to be used by other people. How could they just… _move on_ from all of that? Steve wasn't sure. All he knew was that each step closer to Bucky's current "residence" he got, the more anxious he started to feel.

He couldn't turn back, though. He wasn't going to abandon his best friend, even if part of him felt like his best friend had abandoned him.

Natasha's directions were pretty easy to follow, and they took Steve through a lot of the different parts of the city. He got to see different facets of life here that he hadn't really gotten to witness before. Even though there were gleaming towers filled with remarkable technology standing tall in the distance, there were still men and women selling wares in stalls on the streets. So many old ways of life still had a strong presence here. It was pretty impressive, the harmony between all of those different things. There were lessons here that the rest of the world could stand to learn.

Eventually, paved streets and pathways gave way to dirt paths winding through jungle territory. The air became a bit thicker and a little hotter, and by the time Steve emerged through the thicket and to the open space outside of it, he'd worked up a bit of a sweat. The breeze rolling in from the lake was a welcome sensation, and Steve allowed himself a moment to just stand there and take it all in. The area reminded Steve of a small farm, with a couple modest huts, wooden chairs and tables outside, and some goats grazing in the near distance. He found it incredibly hard to believe that Bucky was tending to goats now, but… well, he supposed he'd seen stranger things. His blue eyes roamed around in search of his friend, but there was no sight of him.

"Buck!" He decided to call out. "Don't tell me you're still sleeping!"

Movement in the trees to his right caught Steve's attention. He turned his gaze that way to see the greenery shifting and parting. They gave way, and out walked Bucky with a machete in hand. He was wearing a worn pair of cargo pants and a green shirt whose sleeves had been sloppily cut off. A piece of woven cloth was wrapped around his left shoulder, partially obscuring the missing arm from view. Steve was fully aware of the fact that Shuri could have provided Bucky with a replacement. She'd probably offered. It didn't look like Bucky had taken her up on it.

Bucky came to a stop outside the treeline. He looked… confused. Steve noticed the way he gripped the handle of that machete just a little tighter.

"Easy, soldier." Steve said. "It's me. The _real _me. All my marbles are back and in working order."

Bucky chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Jeeze, with jokes like that I know it can't be anybody else."

He walked forward, sticking the blade of the machete into a tree stump as he passed. Smiling, Steve met him halfway, and they greeted in a firm hug. Steve gave his friend a couple of hearty slaps on the back before stepping back to take another look at him.

"You look good, Buck." He said.

"Well, last time you saw me I was in a plastic tube." Bucky pointed out. "There was a lot of room for improvement." He gave Steve a once over. "Wish I could say the same for you. What's on your face? All that old age finally catching up to you?"

Steve rubbed at his beard. "Just trying to make it a little harder for people to find me. Seems like you had the better idea."

Bucky's expression fell. He looked down at the ground for a second before lifting his gaze once more. He lifted his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "Sorry about… not coming back," he said as his arm fell back to his side. "I just… It hasn't been that long, you know? There's a lot I'm still sorting through. I don't always trust myself. I have these dreams…"

"Bucky." Steve placed a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's okay. Really. I understand. And I'm okay, so… it all worked out." He smiled and allowed his hand to fall away.

Bucky was quiet for a few moments. He nodded and motioned towards a couple of wooden chairs in front of one of the huts. Steve followed him over and took a seat in one of them. He was surprised that they didn't break under the weight of either man. They were sturdier than they looked, it would seem.

"Seems like we've got a bit of catching up to do, huh?" Bucky said with a quiet huff of a chuckle.

"Yeah," Steve nodded. He leaned forward in his chair and rested his forearms on his legs, hands clasped together in front of his knees. He looked over at his friend and offered a small smile. "Why don't you go first?"

…..

Back in the city, Natasha had, indeed, gotten Shuri to show her some of the new tech she was working on. There was no shortage of things to be impressed about when it came to the teenage genius. Natasha found herself wishing that she could put Shuri and Tony Stark in the same room, if only to see Tony's reaction when he realized there was someone out there who was smarter than him. It was probably best to keep Tony away from a place like Wakanda, though. He'd be like a kid in a candy store, and it was no secret that he didn't exactly have much when it came to impulse control. People like him made Natasha understand why T'Challa had kept Wakanda a secret for so long.

Shuri showed Nat all kinds of things. There were guns that shot concentrated sound waves, shoes that created temporary surfaces for the wearer to jump on, and cloaks that generated incredibly dense shields. Of course, there were plenty of things that Shuri wasn't at liberty to show Natasha, which only made her that much more curious, but the Black Widow understood the need for secrecy. She was more than happy with the things that Shuri _did _show her and especially with the things that she was able to try out for herself. They certainly didn't make guns like this back in Russia.

"You weren't lying when you said you like a challenge." Natasha noted as they walked.

Shuri nodded her agreement.

Natasha paused, prompting the young woman to do the same, and fixed the princess with a serious look. "How… _much… _of a challenge?" She asked.

Shuri narrowed her gaze at Natasha, a curious and expression on her face. "Why do you ask?" She asked cautiously.

"Maybe we should sit down," Nat replied. "I have… one more favor to ask."


	18. Changes

"Don't you think you should talk to Steve about this first?" Shuri asked. Her tone was nervous.

"What?" Natasha asked sharply. "No." She shook her head, feeling some nervousness of her own. "I'm not… I'm not doing this for Steve. I'm doing it for myself. Besides, we don't even know if it'll work."

Shuri pressed her lips together and made a sound. She looked thoughtful and worried. Rightfully so. Natasha had just given her a pretty tall order, especially given the fact that the girl was still just a teenager. Granted, she was the smartest teenager, and perhaps the smartest person, that Natasha had ever met, but she knew that her request still came as quite a surprise.

Natasha had asked Shuri if she could undo the damage that the Red Room had done to her. In the event that she actually _was _able to move on and start having a normal life one day, Nat wanted to at least be able to have the opportunity to try for the things that had been denied her all these years. Whether that was with Steve, someone else, or no one, she at least wanted the option. She thought she deserved that much. Shuri seemed to think it was possible. With the use of stem cells and Wakandan technology, the young princess hypothesized that Natasha's body might be able to regrow what had been taken from it. It wasn't a sure science. It could fail or backfire, but Natasha didn't seem to care. She wanted to try.

"I know it's a lot," Nat told Shuri. "And I know I have no right to even ask it of you, but-"

"No." Shuri cut her off. "You have every right. The things that were done to you were cruel and inhumane. You had your choice taken away from you." The princess took a deep breath and sighed it out. "If I have the ability to return to you that choice… I can't deny you that."

Her young face lit up with a hopeful smile that Natasha couldn't help but match.

"I'll need some time to do some planning, make some preparations; get a team together, but we can give it a shot." Shuri said.

Nat didn't know how much time Shuri would need, and she didn't know how long Steve would be visiting with Bucky. She knew she didn't want to have this conversation with him, though. At least not yet. She was honest in telling Shuri that she wasn't doing this for Steve, but she also didn't want to freak him out with talking about certain… things… well before he was ready for them. And, in the off chance that he _was _ready, she didn't want to get his hopes up. So, she had to figure out a way to keep this all quiet for now. Easier said than done, she was sure. Luckily, Shuri seemed to have a solution for that.

"My brother is taking a trip to the Border Tribe lands today," the princess said. "I'm sure it won't take much convincing to have him ask Steve to go along. There are some rhino enclosures in need of repair, and a strong man such as the Captain would serve most useful in such a task."

Natasha gave Shuri a close-lipped smile, unable to express how truly grateful she was for the princess's help. Maybe someday she would learn how to properly express her gratitude or maybe even repay Shuri for everything she'd done. But today just wasn't that day.

"That sounds like a great idea," she said instead.

Maybe the Black Widow's hope and optimism were enough for Shuri, because the young woman hurried off with an excitement that she hadn't exhibited before. That was good. It meant some of the nervousness had been curbed, and Natasha took that as a cue to curb some of her own. Of course, she had entirely too many nerves right now to be able to quiet them all. This was… pretty crazy. She knew that. She was fully aware of how rash and insane it all seemed. It probably seemed pretty out of character for the former spy, but she couldn't pass up this opportunity. She knew that the only chance she had of taking back what had been taken from her was here in Wakanda, under the close supervision of Shuri and her medical team and their most-advanced technology. It was her best chance at working towards a future that was a little more normal and a little less… depressing.

Of course, that meant lying to Steve. Well, perhaps lying wasn't the proper term. "Withholding information" might have been a better way to describe it. She was pretty sure Shuri would keep T'Challa out of the loop as well, though, so hopefully that would make things a little easier. Still, Natasha felt guilty. Steve had just gotten back from his visit with Bucky when the Wakandan King approached him about heading to the Border Tribe's territory. Apparently it hadn't taken much effort for Shuri to convince him that Steve would be a huge help with whatever repairs it was they were doing. And, of course, Steve being the person that he was, readily accepted the opportunity to help. It was the least he could do, given all that T'Challa had done for him.

"Remind me why you're not coming with us?" Steve asked Natasha before heading out. He'd just gotten back, and he wasn't crazy about the idea of having to leave her again so soon. He also knew she was just as capable of doing some heavy lifting.

"Shuri needs me here." Natasha said with a shrug. It wasn't a lie, so it wasn't all that hard for her to tell it. "Don't tell me _the _Captain America is having qualms about earning his keep…"

Steve furrowed his brow at the teasing grin Natasha was sending his way. "I'm not," he said. "I just get the feeling that I'm getting the short end of the stick, here."

"You've spent the majority of the last week playing Sleeping Beauty." Nat pointed out. "A little bit of exercise could do you good."

Steve shook his head and chuckled, but he was already starting to walk off to join T'Challa on the bridge. "You're going to feel bad if I get trampled by rhinos!" He called as he walked off.

Natasha gave him a wave when he looked over his shoulder at her, but she said nothing. Her nerves were starting to jump back into place in her gut. Things were becoming a lot more real than they had been a couple hours ago. She knew there was no turning back, though. She couldn't ask Shuri to make all these plans and preparations for her and then back out at the last second. Besides, Natasha wasn't exactly one to back down from a challenge. She just had to suck it up, put on her brave face, and get it over with, all while trying not to get her hopes up too much. There was a very good chance this wouldn't work.

After taking a few moments to gather herself, Natasha headed off to meet Shuri.

….

Going to the mountainous region of the Border Tribe wasn't as bad as Steve had expected it to be. He was given the privilege of riding with T'Challa and his Dora Milaje escort in a small aircraft that carried them up to the sloping greenlands where the Border Tribe resided. They posed as farmers and rhino breeders to deceive foreigners of Wakanda's true wealth and power. Even still, they possessed some technological advancements that the rest of the world's farmers would gawk at for sure. Yet, they still had incidents… Like rhinos breaking out of their pastures and roaming freely about the land.

"I don't think I'd ever get used to this." Steve noted as he and T'Challa exited the aircraft. He'd never seen a rhino this close before, let alone ones outfitted with armor plating and harnesses. It was quite an impressive and intimidating sight.

"That is a good quality to have, Captain." T'Challa pointed out. "Complacency is a good way for a man to make himself vulnerable. If we are constantly in awe of the world around us, we can harbor a respect for it, and that respect keeps us safe."

To prove his point, the King calmly approached a rhino that _was _still in an enclosure and extended his hand over the top of the fence. The beast sniffed T'Challa's hand a few times, huffing out breaths of hot air, before ultimately lifting its chin and allowing him to scratch it. Steve was thoroughly impressed, but he didn't think he wanted to pet any rhinos any time soon. He wasn't quite ready for that. What he _could _do was help repair the enclosure that had been broken.

It was hot and laborious work, but it was good to be able to use his strength for something productive; something good. He was sure there were probably some types of machine or pieces of technology that could've been used for a task like this, but there was something very wholesome and satisfying about having the option to do things the easy way but choosing not to.

"The Border Tribe are content to lead simpler lives." T'Challa explained. "I like to come here from time to time. Put myself in their shoes. Remind myself that there are different perspectives than my own."

Steve couldn't say he knew what it was like to lead a "simple" life. He supposed he'd never really tried. Ever since he was a kid, he'd always wanted to be… more. More than the scrawny street rat in the cheap coat. It'd never been about money, though. It'd never been about power. He'd just… wanted to make a difference. Now, he'd lived two lifetimes of doing just that, and he was starting to think that maybe simple wasn't so bad after all. Being somewhere peaceful, living off the land; just… living in general. It had a nice ring to it. He just didn't know if Natasha was the type of woman for "simple" anything.

But then he remembered.

"_I'd spend every day just… sitting at coffee shops and being bored out of my damn mind if it meant never having to do something like this again."_

Natasha's words echoed in his mind.

"_I don't want to do this anymore."_

Maybe that meant there was hope. Maybe they really _could _slow down, give up all the running and fighting and just… be. Maybe it wasn't as much of a long shot as he originally thought.

"It'd be nice," he finally responded to T'Challa. "To have a break from it all. It just feels like the second we stop fighting, the second we're thrown back into it."

"That is a choice you make, Captain." The King replied. "Sometimes, the best thing you can do is to not do anything at all."

T'Challa was a wise man; beyond his years for sure. Steve enjoyed spending time with him, and the work they did that day was good. The Border Tribe expressed their gratitude with food and drink that was enjoyed in the presence of the setting sun. T'Challa sat among them as an equal. The company was good. Steve found himself wishing Natasha was with them, not to contribute to the work, but to just enjoy the moment. The peace. It was something he knew she needed. He wanted to give that to her, and he wondered just how he might be able to. Maybe they could go somewhere; sit at more cafes and drink more coffee.

Of course, that would have to come _after _they reunited with the others to show them all that Steve was alive and well and not some angry, brain-washed super soldier. It might take some time, but… at least now he had a plan. Kind of.

…

In the hours that Steve was away, Natasha was in an operating room with Shuri and a small team of doctors. They'd put her under, even though the procedure wasn't nearly as invasive as it would've been anywhere else. It was more for Natasha's comfort than anything else. Shuri was probably well aware of the fact that the Black Widow would be freaking out the entire time, and they wanted to keep her calm. As a result, when she woke up a couple hours later, the former spy had no idea how much time had passed. All she knew was that she was a bit sore deep in her abdomen, and that she'd been relocated.

Rather than an operating table, Natasha was laying in a small, warm, comfortable bed situated by a huge window that faced West. The sun was setting, but it was still spilling the warmth of its rays into the room. The diluted color was soft and comforting, and Natasha found herself lulled back to sleep after just a few moments of looking out the window. She didn't know if she truly dozed, and if she did for how long, but eventually she was opening her eyes again to Shuri entering the room.

"How are you feeling?" The Princess asked.

"Honestly, I thought it'd be much worse." Natasha said. She tested her limits by slowly sitting up in bed, and when she found that moving wasn't all that bad, she peeled the blankets off of her legs and slowly swung around to put her feet on the floor. She was dressed in comfortable pants that were a dark gray color and a simple, light blue t-shirt. Shuri handed her a shawl that was a mix of grays, black and blue. Natasha accepted it gratefully and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"How did it go?" She asked.

"Rather seamlessly," Shuri replied with a smile. "It will take some time to know if the procedure took, however."

"How long?"

Shuri tilted her head back and forth a few times. "A week. Perhaps two."

"We can't stay here that long," Natasha said. She didn't want to overstay their welcome, and Steve would probably know that something was up.

That seemed to trouble Shuri a little. She furrowed her brow and folded her slender arms across her chest. She was silent for a few moments; thinking. "I suppose we could check in occasionally over the phone," she said. "But if something seems wrong, you _must _come back immediately."

Natasha nodded her understanding. That seemed like a fair compromise. She just hoped it wouldn't come to that. She agreed to Shuri's terms.

"My brother will be returning soon," Shuri said, moving on. "If you would like to… make any preparations, now would be the time."

Nat assumed that meant getting herself cleaned up and looking a little more presentable and a little less like she'd just had invasive, reconstructive surgery. Shuri gave her something to combat the little bit of anesthetic still in her system. After that, Natasha went to get cleaned up. She showered and dressed in something a little less "hospital-y" and was towel-drying her short blonde locks when Steve returned. He rapped on the frame of her open door, leaning casually with his arms folded across his chest. His shirt and skin was patchy with dirt and dried sweat, and his growing, dark blonde hair was a bit unkempt around his face. He looked painfully handsome. Quite literally, Natasha thought, as she felt a tightening in her stomach.

"I see you didn't get trampled by rhinos." She said.

Steve grinned and stepped into the room, arms dropping to his sides. "Not for lack of trying," he said. "I think a few of them were pretty upset about having their vacation cut short."

He came to a stop a few feet away from her. He noticed she looked a little tired; a little stiff. Steve furrowed his brow in concern. "Everything okay?" He asked.

"Mm," Natasha nodded and lowered the towel to her side. "Still recovering, I guess." Another half-truth. She _was _recovering; she just let Steve believe she meant from the fight at the clinic. It was cruel of her, she knew, especially given the look on his face when he heard that, but she just… couldn't tell him the whole truth. Not yet.

"Nat-"

"How was Bucky?" She asked, cutting him off before he could apologize again.

Steve pressed his lips together and frowned a bit. He was a little frustrated that Natasha kept avoiding that particular subject, but he decided to just let it go. His shoulders shrugged a bit, and he sank to a seat at the foot of the bed.

"He seems okay," Steve said. "Different, but… not. I think he's going to stay here a bit longer; make sure his head's on straight. Can't really blame him for that."

Natasha took a seat next to Steve, a soft, concerned look on her face. "What about _your _head?" She asked. "Is it on straight?"

Steve took a moment, his blue eyes staring hard at the wall in front of him. He was still at war with his memories and the emotions they brought, but he didn't feel like he couldn't trust himself. He felt like he was in control and would continue to be in control, but there was still pain. It wasn't physical so much as it was mental, but it lingered. There was a word for it, he knew. It was called "guilty conscience". After a moment, Steve turned his gaze to Natasha. Her deep green eyes were staring intently at him, patiently and perhaps worriedly waiting for an answer.

"After we meet back up with the others," he said tentatively, "what do you say we… take some time. Just the two of us. Go someplace where we can just… be."

Natasha's eyes roamed Steve's face, searching; wondering. Her expression was serious and contemplative. She knew what she'd said, about wanting coffee shops and boring; about wanting rest. Could she really do it, though? Could she really give up the fighting? It was the only time she ever felt like she was really making a difference, like she was really useful. She supposed, for now, they didn't have to give it up completely. They could just… step away from it, if only for a little while; see how it went.

After a moment, Natasha nodded, a soft smile forming on her face. "I think that's one of the best ideas you've had yet," she said.

Steve smiled. He reached over and placed a hand on her cheek; then leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She smelled like exotic flowers and spring water, while he was sure he smelled like… quite the opposite. With that in mind, he gently pulled away and looked down at Natasha and the bit of color that had blossomed to life in her cheeks. The magnetic pull she possessed was almost impossible not to give into, but Steve knew he needed to get cleaned up. So, he reluctantly allowed his hand to fall away from her face, and he pushed himself to his feet.

"Call the others," he said as he stepped away. "Tell them we're reconvening tomorrow, and we want to see _all _their faces."

Natasha's lips pushed up in a half smile. "Roger that, Captain." She said. As Steve moved off to take a shower, Natasha headed off to make some calls.


	19. What the Future May Bring

The next night, Steve and Natasha found themselves in a rather impressive flat in Brussels. Apparently Sam's military buddy was now a property manager, and he had some pretty lavish estates under his name. This one was a fully furnished, four bedroom space that was typically rented out by celebrities or other high-rollers when they came through town. Currently, it was unused; so the guy, Ron, was nice enough to let them use it.

The reunion was much-needed. Sam, Wanda and Vision were thrilled to see Steve back to his old self again. They'd been incredibly worried; so it was a huge relief to know that whatever they'd done to him in Wakanda had worked. He was back to one-hundred percent, too; without a single headache to speak of. It was definitely cause for celebration. Sam may have gone a little overboard in procuring such a large space for the small group of them, but then again Sam was known for being a little "extra" from time to time.

Since Steve and Nat left for Wakanda, Sam had been laying low, and Wanda and Vision had done the same but separately from Sam. They were working on Wanda's abilities while keeping an ear to the ground; making sure that things with Garrett stayed quiet. So far, it seemed like S.H.I.E.L.D. had managed to keep the situation contained, and no other international threats had popped up to replace Garrett. Things seemed to be going well for the time being.

Currently, the group was situated around a large bar off the kitchen. Natasha was behind it, seeing what sort of different cocktails she could make. Steve sat next to Sam in the stools in front of her, while Wanda occupied one a couple down from Steve. Vision, sporting his new, "civilian" look, was standing near one end of the bar, watching Natasha curiously. Apparently bartending wasn't in his vast wealth of knowledge.

"So…" Sam said after taking a sip of his beer, "you're telling me that they have _rhinos? _As _pets?"_

Steve had just finished catching his friends up to speed on their time in Wakanda. That, of course, included his experience corralling rhinos back into their enclosures.

"Something between a pet and a… war steed?" He said, eyes moving to the right as he thought. After a moment, he shrugged and took a drink of his own beer. Steve was a simple man with simple tastes. Well, for the most part. At least when it came to drinks.

"And you didn't ride one…" Sam seemed to be having a hard time believing that.

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "No, Wilson, I didn't take any rhinos out for a joyride. Maybe next time."

Nat finished shaking up a drink and poured it over ice in a stemless martini glass. It was a deep fuschia color and smelled faintly of rose hips. She was looking particularly lovely in a royal blue pencil skirt that was paired with a shirt with thick, white and navy blue stripes running horizontally across it. She was feeling surprisingly well, too, with very minimal pain and discomfort other than occasional tightness in her abdomen. She was cautiously optimistic that the procedure was taking. She took a sip of the drink, nodded her approval, and then extended it to Vision to try.

He seemed skeptical.

"Oh, come on." Nat said. "It's not jet fuel, but I'm sure it's still good."

Vision looked at her, confused by her comment. "I do not partake of jet fuel, Miss Romanoff…" he said.

"I think that was a joke, Viz." Wanda commented with a wry smile.

Vision stared at the drink for a few more seconds before deciding to take a sip of it. It was small and incredibly cautious, and he spent several seconds afterwards just sort of staring into the liquid like he was contemplating whether or not he liked it. When he started spouting off every single ingredient that Natasha had put in it, however, she realized he'd been analyzing its contents.

"Okay, that's just weird." Nat said, taking the drink back from him. "You're supposed to enjoy it, not dissect it."

Natasha returned to the side of the bar where Sam and Steve sat, leaning down on the counter across from them and gently swirling her drink in her glass. "You know," she said, "the last time we had a party, it was crashed by angry robots."

Sam looked around. "Good thing five people isn't a party," he said.

"You have to admit, it was at least a _little _fun," Nat replied with a smile.

"Tell that to whoever had to foot the bill for that place." Steve said.

Then, they both remembered it was Tony, and they shrugged.

Eventually, Sam roped Steve into a game of pool, which seemed like it was pretty inevitable. Natasha moved around to the other side of the bar, where she could actually take a seat and watch them play from across the room. Steve was sticking to his theme of ruggedly handsome in a slate gray button-up with the sleeves rolled up halfway and a pair of dark jeans. He'd had a leather jacket but abandoned it at some point, and now it was hanging on the back of a chair next to Natasha. Wanda and Vision were standing by one of the huge windows that overlooked the city. There was an old-fashioned jukebox there that Vision seemed fascinated by. This resulted in a lot of song changes, until somebody found one they particularly liked and let it play all the way through.

Bringing up the party made Natasha feel the absence of their friends. It was certainly a very different dynamic without personalities like Thor and Tony Stark around. Of course, Nat missed Clint dearly, and she wondered about Bruce almost everyday, but she tried not to let her mind stray to those things right now. She couldn't ignore how good it was to have these people that were here with her now. She knew how rare moments like this could be for people like them, and she knew she had to enjoy them while they lasted. So, she stood up, drink in hand, and headed over to the pool table. She leaned one hip against a corner while Steve was lining up a shot.

"Ah, the distraction." Sam said. "Just in time."

Natasha grinned innocently and lifted her drink to her lips, watching over the rim of her glass as Steve missed his next shot.

Sam laughed. "Oh, come on, man!" He teased Steve. "It's can't be _that _easy!"

"I count three of my balls still on the table, Wilson." Steve said. "And… five of yours? I'm just giving you a chance to catch up. I don't want to get too far ahead of you."

"Yeah, like that's ever been an issue for you." Sam grumbled as he stepped up to the table.

Steve moved to the side that Natasha was standing on, coming to stand next to her with his pool stick gripped loosely in his hands. "You can take next shot," he told her.

"And _completely _ruin any chance Sam has of winning?" She perked a brow. "That hardly seems fair."

"You're probably right." Steve agreed. "Probably best if we go easy on him."

"I can _hear _you!" Sam scowled from across the table. He missed his next shot and grumbled something to himself as he stood up straight once more. "Don't you two have a roller coaster to jump off of or something?"

"It was a Ferris wheel," Natasha reminded him.

They spent the rest of the night eating, drinking, listening to music, playing pool and just generally enjoying each other's company. Sam showed Wanda and Vision how to play pool, though apparently it should've been Steve or Natasha teaching them, since they were clearly the superior players. Command of the jukebox was traded off frequently, meaning there was a pretty eclectic mix of music that filled the flat throughout the night. Thankfully, there were no robot attacks, but the occasional sound of sirens and the sight of flashing lights somewhere off in the city was a reminder that the world as they knew it was still turning.

Much later in the evening, the five of them were gathered in the living area. Steve and Natasha sat next to each other on the sofa. Wanda occupied a large chair, which Sam leaned his back against as he sat on the floor. Vision was standing near the window, looking out at the city and just taking it all in. The music was playing more softly now, providing gentle background ambiance while they talked.

"So," Wanda said, "what will we do now?"

It seemed to be the question on all their minds. Now that this whole thing with Garrett was apparently over, there seemed to be a moment of calm after the storm. A time to regather and reset, maybe, and figure out what they would do next.

"I gotta get home, man." Sam said, picking at the peeling label on his beer bottle. "I mean, don't get me wrong," he lifted his gaze to the others, "running all over Europe and almost dying with you guys has been a blast, but…" He paused, seemingly hesitant about what he was going to say next.

"But you miss your mom?" Natasha filled in for him.

Sam scowled at her, but the expression dropped pretty quickly. He sighed. "_No_. I mean… I miss her, but… she's probably worried sick about me. Everybody back home probably is."

"We'll get you home, Sam." Steve assured him.

"Fury can probably pull a few strings," Nat said. "He kind of owes us after the whole Garrett thing." Her green eyes moved over to Wanda. "What about you?"

Wanda looked over her shoulder at Vision. He slowly turned away from the window and walked back to join them. "There is much of this world I'd like to see," Vision said.

"And someone needs to help him learn how to blend in." Wanda finished, grinning at Natasha. It was Natasha who had taught Wanda those same tricks.

Maybe being fugitives wasn't so bad after all.

Eventually, the others slowly trickled off, going their own ways within the flat. That left Steve and Natasha to sit on the couch together. It had started to rain, and the quiet sound of raindrops gently hitting the windows was soothing. Natasha stared out, watching the way the water streaked down against the glass and created blurry, obscured views of the city lights. She had kicked off her shoes and moved to lean her back against Steve's side, her legs stretched out across the cushions in front of her. His arm was draped over her shoulder, and her hand was gently clasped with his.

Steve looked down at Natasha, a soft fondness on his face. "What about you?" He asked her, repeating his question from earlier. "Where do _you _want to go from here?"

Nat thought about that for a moment. It was kind of hard to imagine a future that was any different than the past she'd lived thus far, but she knew that she wanted to try. She didn't want to face the worry of losing Steve like she had. Somewhere in her mind, Natasha knew that the Red Room was right. Attachments, love, they _were _vulnerabilities, but they also provided strength. They were motivation for a better life, something Natasha never felt she deserved. Steve was helping her realize that maybe she did. Maybe there could be something else out there. Something better. She leaned her head back to look up at him.

"How do you feel about Switzerland?" She asked.

"Switzerland?" Steve rolled his gaze upwards, thinking for a moment. It was all an act, really, because Natasha could've suggested the Amazon, and he would've been okay with it. It didn't matter where they went, as long as they were together. He could feel her grinning up at him, probably well aware of the show he was putting on. After a moment, he lowered his gaze back down to meet hers, a smile on his bearded face.

"I hear they've got great cheese."

Natasha rolled her eyes and moved, swinging her legs and resting her feet on the floor so she could lean her back against the cushions next to Steve. She angled towards him so she could look at him more directly.

"I think we'd be safe there," she said. "For awhile. We could lay low while all this crap with the Sokovia Accords blows over." Because it would, she hoped. It had to, right? They had to be able to go home _some _day.

"We'll make sure that those who need us know how to find us," she continued. "We could just, I dunno…" she paused, struggling to think of what to say next.

"Live for a while?" Steve finished for her, a softly amused look on his face.

Natasha shrugged. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

Sensing some defensiveness, Steve gently took one of Nat's hands in his. "No." He said sincerely. "Not at all. That's just… not something I ever really expected to hear from you."

Nat rolled her eyes, even though she knew he was right. "I'm not saying we retire and get matching rocking chairs," she said. "But we could take a break for a while. Get an idea for… where to go next."

Her green eyes fell for a moment of uncertainty. This was delicate subject material for her, and she felt like an idiot for even thinking about it. It was so unlike her, she knew. So unlike everything she'd grown up knowing and doing. It wasn't even supposed to be possible, and it wouldn't have been if she hadn't gotten out of Russia and the KGB, but she had. And she was here, in a time and place that felt like a million lifetimes away from where she came from. Natasha knew that she could never stop being the Black Widow just as much as she knew Steve could never stop being Captain America, but she thought that maybe they could be both. Together. If the world needed them, they'd be there, but in the meantime… Would it be so bad to do something for themselves for a change?

"Nat." Steve said gently, beckoning her eyes up to meet his. "I think it's a great idea."

He offered her a gentle smile. Steve didn't know what to do with himself when he wasn't fighting, and he was sure Natasha felt the same way. So, what better person to figure that out with? They could learn together. They could grow and reshape their lives into something that they wanted it to be, not something that circumstance or outside forces had pushed on them. It wouldn't change who they were, but maybe it would make them just a little bit better.

Steve released Nat's hand so he could cup her cheek instead. He gently turned her face towards him and, leaning forward, pressed his lips to hers. It was a soft and warm kiss at first, but after a few seconds that natural fire kicked in and turned it into something stronger. Natasha's hands were laced loosely around the back of his neck, holding onto him and keeping him close. He could feel the warmth radiating off of her, and that natural magnetic pull she possessed made it impossible to let her go. Her lips were soft, her skin was soft; everything about her just felt right. At least he thought it did. He was left to wonder when, after a few moments, Natasha broke the kiss.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him, rubbing her lips together in thought. Wrapped in the warm, strong embrace of Steve's arms, it was difficult for Nat to think about much else besides how good he felt. All she wanted to do was kiss him and drown in him until the moon fell out of the sky, but she knew that she couldn't. She knew that, if they wanted to keep moving forward and actually do these things they talked about, she had to be honest with him. She couldn't keep secrets. Not from him. So, she took a deep breath and steadied her nerves.

"There's… something I should tell you." She said.

Natasha proceeded into one of the most awkward conversations of her life. She very nervously told Steve about Wakanda, and the procedure she'd asked Shuri to do. It was very difficult to look at Steve and tell him all these things. It was just as difficult to tell how he felt about them. Natasha, who was usually an ace at reading people, couldn't really get a feel for what Steve was thinking. There was a slight furrow in his brow and a look of intense concentration, but she couldn't decipher between anger, confusion, or whatever else he might have been experiencing. It was a lot to take in, she was sure. Maybe she should've… wrote him a letter or something so she didn't have to actually sit here and feel like a spotlight was bearing down on her. Perhaps this was a bad idea.

When she was finished, there was tense, awkward silence. Steve was gathering his thoughts. He was thoroughly surprised and definitely confused. Maybe a touch concerned. This was all pretty foreign territory for him. To hear that Natasha had willingly put her through something like that made him both happy and sad. He was, of course, thrilled to know that she wanted a chance at a normal life for herself, but he was upset that she'd opted to go through all of that alone. Didn't she know he would've been there to support her?

"Why didn't you tell me?" He finally asked.

Nat knew it was a question that would come. She thought she'd prepared herself for it, and yet here she was, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. It took her a moment to blink herself out of her stupor. She cleared her throat and shook her head a few times before shrugging one shoulder.

"Honestly?" She said, her face scrunching a bit. "I didn't want to freak you out. I mean, might as well slap a 'Stage Five Clinger' sticker on my forehead, right?"

Steve furrowed his brow, jaw slightly open. "I… don't know what that means." He said.

Nat sighed. "It doesn't matter. I just… I dunno. Regardless of what happens, I wanted a chance, you know? I wanted to do it for me, and I didn't want to complicate things along the way. There isn't even any guarantee that it'll work. I didn't want to get _your _hopes up. I'm having a hard enough time not getting my own hopes up as it is."

She dropped her gaze to her lap. "I'm sorry."

Steve could see how much this all weighed on her. He could see her guilt and the uncertainty that was radiating off of her. It tugged at his heart and caused him to frown. "Come here."

He opened an arm and pulled her against him, holding her against his side. He lowered his cheek to rest on the top of her head as she wrapped an arm around his waist and curled her legs up onto the couch.

"I understand why you did it," Steve said. "And…" He lifted his head so he could look down at her. "It doesn't 'freak me out'. The only thing that freaks me out is the idea of something happening to you and me not knowing what's going on. Just… don't keep me in the dark, Nat. I want to help. However I can."

Natasha didn't answer, but she didn't need to. The small smile and the kiss she placed on his cheek were more than enough. She settled back down against him after that, content to just rest safely nestled beneath the weight of his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Steve was content, too. He sat there, eyes gazing out the window, and thought. He was honest when he said he wasn't freaked out. Natasha had, had something very terrible done to her, and she deserved any chance she had at reversing that damage. That was her choice, and it always would be. Still, Steve couldn't help but wonder what this meant. He thought about Clint and the wife and kids, the whole life, he had outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. The family, the cabin; the farm. Could Steve and Natasha really have something like that? It was a lot to think about. Ultimately, Steve decided he didn't need to think about it right now. They'd had enough of that for one night. The future could wait. For now, Steve was content to sit and enjoy this moment they'd made for themselves.


End file.
